I watch you puff out rings of smoke and my loins begin to stir. You fill me with unimaginable excitement and I can’t wait to ravage your bodily possessions. I know it’s only a matter of time and I thank Ja, my good buddy, immensely for sending you my way and paying your fucking expensive fee.
You handle your stick of White London with so much dexterity and I somewhat doubt your claim that you have never smoked kush. I mean, that’s the shit for sure and though I can’t really say I’m a smoker, I do love me some kush every now and then. If it does actually happen that you and I become good friends after this ‘business deal’ of ours, (which is likely to be the case anyway because Mr. P never fails to impress), I will endeavour to introduce you to one of the finest things in life offered by completely natural and safe grass. Definitely not that chemical shit called SK (no offense to SK puffers please).
“Come baby….come have a taste.” you beckon to me with a sexy smile and very sultry accent that makes me appreciate you even better for being an English student at Unilag aka MAULag. God bless the white man who introduced phonetics in academics indeed.
“Nah! I don’t do tobacco baby. Strictly grass.” I say, yet finding it difficult to resist your offer. I have the feeling that sharing a cigarette or two with you would only boost your mood and make you trust me enough to fuck me silly, but then, I still gotta stay true to myself and remain a fan of pure natural grass.
You giggle at my response and I am baffled. However, shit becomes clear to me when you follow that subtle laughter with “No….I meant come and have a taste of my lips”
Oh my! With those words, I feel myself already leaking some precum and I shiver a little with anxiety. Regardless though, I take just three steps forward and place myself firmly in your presence. With a straight face, I wait on what is to come and you definitely know how to blow a nigga’s mind, I SWEAR!
You move your face closer to mine and gently rub your sweet, thin lips against mine before parting them open with your tongue. I do not only feel your soft, wet piece of muscular tissue from your pleasurable oral cavity in my mouth, I also feel a haze of smoke in that opening, which further drifts upwards to my head and into my brain. The feeling is awesome even though you’ve now succeeded in registering a slightly bitter taste of tobacco in my sense of taste. Nonetheless, I keep my lips locked in yours and savour the wet, sticky-sweet moment.
Just when I begin to really enjoy our kiss and crave for more hot action by unconsciously (more like in the spirit….lolz) reaching for your right boob, you gently push me away. With that same sultry smile on your face, you say to me “No boy! Not just yet.” Ordinarily, this should be a turn-off for me but I just can’t seem to make myself get upset with you, even if I really wanted to. I remain where you’ve now let me; some two steps away from you but I’m happy at least that I’m one step better than my previous position.
The special treat that comes next from you is highly sexual….so fucking intense and something that I only get to see when I turn to my TV, DVD player and ‘There’s something about Jack’ DVD for konji relief. I’m talking about some serious hot porn stuff now, without a doubt.
Anyway, right about now, you adjust yourself on the ironing table just in front of my room to make yourself more comfortable. As you raise your skimpy skirt to permit me catch a glimpse of your orange-coloured panty, you slowly pull your string to one side of your bum cheek and insert one finger into your already moist honey-pot. My head sparks at this point in time and like Chuddy-K, I’m already ‘Go gaga going crazy’. In a matter of seconds, one finger turns to two and subsequently three.
Your eyes squint as you stroke yourself and your act tempts me to do the same. Though I do not caress Mr. P, I’m excited enough to hold on to him, waiting for you to simply make that call and feel me deposit a bucket-full of cum in you. Your squints intensify and I discover that they actually follow a rhythm. Your eyes go only dim when your fingers are inside you, not outside your clit region and any fool can understand why. I also can imagine the special spasms that must be taking over you now and I simply just can’t wait to do you…..do you on my ironing table.
Now you’re taking a drag off your cigarette and that makes the whole show even more sexy. I begin to wonder how awesome it would be to watch you puff on your stick while you take mine inside you. However, I must be patient and watch first….watch you until you’re ready for me…ready for Mr. P.
More drags and more fingering goes on with you for about 2 minutes before your eyes suddenly open wide once again and you realise I exist. Such was a good show though but I just need to fuck you now….show you how bad I want you and my luck shines just then.
“Come to me baby…come and take this pussy.” You say to me gently, biting your lips and gettin them lubricated with your tongue.
CHOIII !!! My head lights a spark just then and I’m suddenly like the corrupt alter-ego of El-dee da don in his popular ‘Bosigbangba’ single. In my head, I’m singing……………………
Today na today
You no go escape
I go damage your punana
I’m ready for you
Today na today
You no go escape
Mo ti ready la ti da tan !!!
I quickly seize the moment of pleasant surprise you’ve thrown at me and present my hard but humble self in front of you….yet again. Before you can say “oya, put it in” I have already slipped on a condom and I am now trying to slide myself into your tight chamber of pleasure. “Oooh!” you gently moan and I know that I have now registered Mr. P in your sweet, wet and delicious presence. “Phoooo!” you moan again as I offer you my first hard but slow thrust. I can read the expressions on your face telling me you are loving this and I certainly can feel your pussy heating up badly. Such condition is good for Mr. P as he certainly loves getting baked or grilled.
As I deliver more thrusts inside you….only faster and harder now, I watch you unconsciously take out your boobs from your blouse and lick your nipples. Damn! All by your sex-damned self??? This sheer sexy act further turns me on and I can feel my erection go stronger. I push myself further into you and watch you tilt your head back in uncontrollable excitement. Your moan of “Ooo yeah…Give it to me daddy!” creates another spark in my brain and I suddenly feel tempted to feel like my sex idol – Lexington Steele.
Because of the very sexy mood we’re both in, jointly facilitated by the atmospheric environment and the position we’re adopting, I start going gaga. I really have never fucked anyone in the open before and this experience is just so awesome. Moreover, our sex position coupled with your sweet, angelic and ecstatic moans have me feeling like I really can be the pornstar that I plan to be someday. I decide to regard this as practice and now smack a soft slap across your soft left cheek.
“Awww!” is all you say and I reckon I have your consent to give you more. “Kpa..kpa..kpa!!!” I deliver on both cheeks now, one after the other and all you respond with is “Yezzz! Do it to me daddy! Fuck me harder….fuck me faster!”
I am now challenged and increase my thrusts tempo. I’m pushing my dick harder and deeper into your tight vagina now and I see you squint those eyes again with sheer pleasure. I wanna give you the time of your life so I now reach for your neck and give it a gentle squeeze. All you do is moan while closing your eyes and I tighten my grip on that neck while beating your pussy up like crazy.
“Oooh! Eeeesssshh….Awwww…..YEZZZZ…..YESSSSS!!! Fuck me baby!...Fuck me….Fuck me harder….Fuck me boy!”
I respond to your requests for like an extra minute more before we both hear “KPRAAAA!” Ehn! Wetin happen o? I quickly take out Mr. P from you to find a torn dick protector. “What the fuck!” I say to no one in particular. Just before I make my next decision, you surprise me…. “Oh baby, please don’t spoil the fun. Put it back inside me.”
“But I need to get another condom.” I say.
“Ohhhh! Forget about that please! I need you back inside me. I was enjoying you love”
In my head I’m like “Mmmm? Na only you bin dey enjoy am? Because you wan make I fuck you, you wan kon koba my life ontop abi? Shiiiooor!!!” In words though, all I tell you is “I’ll be right back” and quickly dash into my room in search of another piece of latex.
I come out in 2 minutes with disappointment written all over my face. My brother must have borrowed my reserve for his girlfriend and forgot to tell me about it. Now, I am without a condom and I cannot fuck you without one simply because you’re a hoe and hoes catch anything and indeed everything. Our session of fuckery is over I guess. There’s absolutely nothing I can do now.
“No condom baby” I tell you in a low devastating tone. I expect to see your face totally go sad and unhappy but your next string of words both shock and amuse me.
“Aww…shit! Ehn…look for nylon nau! We can’t stop like this o! Ah!...No oooo!”
"FREAK!!!"......Lolz
(THE END)
Friday, September 28, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Sharrap! Not Everybody Loves Ice Pwince (Part 2)
El-Devino’s seemed pretty dead from outside save for a few young men and women who were standing, chatting and laughing over only God knows what. Mama Nkechi’s place, on the other hand, usually received patrons with a loud welcome in the form of heavy-blasting music and loud cackling from tipsy or drunk fun-seekers as well as young, cock-hungry female hustlers. The big glass doors of the new joint seemed inviting though and complimented my looks as I stood in its reflection so I decided to go in and see if I would like what was inside.
The sight within definitely didn’t disappoint…..the sound was the actual problem. It was boring as fuck. Everything I saw appealed to my sense of sight but what I heard the moment I stepped into the exquisite-looking pub insulted my sense of sound. The scenery, such an oxymoron, was dark and sinful, yet bright and beautiful. Flashy coloured bulbs lit everywhere in a subtle manner. There were tall seats directly in front of the bar, looking very inviting with their bright varying colours. The regular tables placed strategically around the room, though quite small, seemed like they could carry a few rounds of drinks without actually complaining. Picture frames of famous musicians; both foreign and local, were hung on the walls and the big cushion seats looked very cosy. Some hustlers who were pretending to be actual customers were already seated and sipping slowly from bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Obviously, they were waiting for potential customers to find them attractive enough to join them, pay for their drinks and possibly negotiate a round or two of fuckery. I knew their game damn too well. They certainly couldn’t fool me…..lolz
Now the sound ehn?....Chai! There was a big problem with the music. Celine Dion’s ‘All coming back to me’ was the track that the DJ was playing and I didn’t know how the bloody hell I was expected to practice both my ‘Azonto’ and ‘Etighi’ dance steps to that. Anyway, at least the music wasn’t loud enough to disturb a phone conversation. I decided to call Woody and report the whack-ass DJ to him.
I strolled towards the bar counter and chose a tall green seat. I suspected the barman instantly wanted to welcome me and take my order but I had already taken-out my phone, dialled my buddy’s number and placed it close to my right ear. The barman paused just then and pretended to be looking at the menu, which he had by now, placed in front of me.
“Hello….Yo! where you at mayne? It’s already 7pm and you better not keep this nigga waiting.” I threatened my pal jokingly.
“Er…hey buddy! Er…em…look I’m sorry mayne. Tha Bossman sure kept me working longer than usual. However, I shouldn’t be late for more than an extra hour. Sorry buddy!”
“What da fuck! You mean you gon’ leave me here all by myself in this strange looking place for an extra 60 minutes?”
“Sorry but can’t help it mayne. I’ll make up for it. And you can’t possibly be alone nau! Ain’t no hootchies around?” his voice sounded pacifying.
“Er..well, there are a bunch of ‘em but they all ain’t look good to me.” Came my response.
“You don’t say. Well do try and find one you can manage ehn? My treat!” I could instantly sense Woody’s smile.
“Gosh! You do know how to compensate a nigga. Okay then! Thanks!” I hoped he could equally sense my grin. I hung up and tucked the phone back into my pocket.
The patient barman quickly seized the long-awaited moment and sang out a beautiful string of words, which I assumed he used on all new customers. “You’re welcome to El-Devino’s sir. Here you’ll experience relaxation and satisfaction like never before. An ambient atmosphere we have here to help you ease-out whatever stress you may be carrying on your shoulders sir. What may I get your esteemed self to drink please?”
I admired his courtesy in as much as it failed to make me feel as special as it intended to. “Er…would you by any chance have a cold bottle of Guinness?” I asked mindfully.
The shock that instantly took over his face was both glaring and amusing as he quickly sized me up. “Oh certainly not sir! Pardon me but that thick, black, unrefined liquid is for only those without fine taste. No offense sir. I would encourage you to go for something more befitting….something more matching with your fine look sir.”
Chai!!! In my head I was like “Shoo! Did this bloody civilian bartender just insult my most revered brand of stout or what? Is he mad? Didn’t he know that stout was for real men? That stout was beneficial to the body in more ways than one? Was he such a fool???” However, the words that ended up leaving my mouth were “Oh really? Er…okay. Em…..how about you surprise me then?” while forcing a smile.
The idiotic barman suddenly brightened up with excitement. “Oh very well sir! I have got just the thing for you. One ‘Bloody Mary’ coming up!” he said, leaving my presence just then to go about mixing a concoction I was completely unfamiliar with.
“Hmmn….A Bloody Mary? Does she come with a soaked pad? I asked giving my best wicked smile.
“Huh? I beg your pardon”
“Er…Never mind! I was only thinking out loud.” I quickly submitted. The fool didn’t get the joke and I sure didn’t want to piss him off enough to have him slip something into my glass cup.
“Here you are sir!” My drink had no longer been served on the counter than the big glass doors instantly flew open and he swaggered in. Yes! In full royalty, he swaggered in. I’m referring to that Shoc Boi o!….That nigga Ice Pwince. Bouncing in in the company of a monster-looking aide and a middle-aged man in suit, he was ushered towards a row of cushion seats at the far end of the room and that was exactly when shit started to go down.
As the ‘Oyeku Master’ walked in with magician swag, the female hustlers who had been sipping from their bottles and who looked in the direction of the entrance/exit just when I did, quickly recognised him and went into a frenzy. In a flash, they were all up and dashing towards the newest celebrity patron screaming “Ice Pwince!...Oh my God, it’s Ice Pwince! I love you Ice Pwince!..ICE PWINCE!!!”
It was just a huge shame about what came next. It was either the bouncer was gay as fuck or he just simply hated the ugly sight of hustlers trying to get at his boss. Just when these bitches got close enough to wrap their arms around their’ Magician’, the gigantic fella swung one arm out in a vicious attempt to block them. The end result was disastrous indeed. The first bitch got hit and flew in my direction, crashing on me and more sadly, knocking off my drink; a drink whose taste I was still yet to savour.
The deed being done, the other hustlers stopped in their tracks first before making a diversion towards where their friend lay on the floor. Shock was written all over their faces and such was the expression on that of my dear bartender. Only Ice Pwince and I wore similar looks of indifference on our faces, left alone for the wicked aide whose facial expression remained the stone-cold same. Oh yeah! The man in suit who I suspected was the pub manager only shook his head in pity at the ladies.
It wasn’t until these hoes had helped their comrade up and were making their way back to their seats that both the barman and Ice Pwince noticed me rubbing and cleaning off some of the drink that spilled on my pants. Just as the bartender kept saying “sorry sir” for the wasted expensive drink that I was still going to pay for, something both amusing and surprising happened.
I never imagined such could happen but it actually did. He must have probably sized me up from where he stood and realised I was a customer who couldn’t be treated with disdain. He ignored the plea from the suited fool who kept urging him to keep on walking with him, probably to the waiting VIP section of the joint. In any case, that was simply how our ‘Oyeku Master’ made his way towards me.
“Sorry bruv. My bad. Don’t worry, I gatchu!” he said to me before turning to the barman “Yo! Could you please entertain my good man here with a bottle of Henny on me?”
“Nah mayne! It’s okay. I planned on getting myself another drink anyway. Just gotta wipe this off. Thanks still.” Was my exact reply.
Ice Pwince seemed startled for a moment. He sized me up again and said “Yo! I ruined your earlier attempt at drinking. It’s only proper that I make it up to you and set things right mayne” he said very persuasively.
I didn’t want to rudely refuse his generous offer but I also didn’t want him to buy me a drink out of sheer guilt. After all, I also came with my money. It wasn’t the kind celebrities like the Shoc Boi made but it was surely my proud income.
“It’s okay Ice Pwince. You really don’t need to compensate me. I’m capable of buying myself another round” I said gently and politely but Ice Pwince refused to budge and that was exactly when the situation started to get out of hand.
“What? C’mon mayne! I mean, you already know me. This is Ice pwince bruv. Okay, okay I’m actually insisting on buying you a chilled bottle of Henny. You know I rep that brand? Plus you know…………(breaking into his song)
Anytime we talk say we go rock o! We go all the way….We go all the way!
Now, I was like “what tha fuck!!! Was this fool actually singing to me? Did I look like the ‘hootchies’ his bouncer fenced off earlier?” I decided to show him.
I gave a good chuckle first and then a smile before responding to an equally smiling Ice Pwince. “Yeah I know. But then I am Dr. Cockintush and em………”
Anytime I talk say I go fuck o! I go all the way…….I go all the way!
Ice Pwince certainly didn’t realise then whom exactly he was dealing with. He was still bent on showing off and said “Oho! So my bruv here sings too huh? Cool mayne! However…………………(and resumed singing)
Better cars…better clothes on me
Better houses….better parties….better girls on me
See I can take you there….champagne everywhere
And that’s the life we live….like everyday
Yeah, I’ma SUPERSTAR!!!
“Haha!” Ice Pwince laughed at his own cleverness not knowing who he was up against. His bouncer had joined us by now and was staring at me suspiciously. I didn’t give a damn about him though. I gave the ‘Oyeku Master’ my sharp and insulting reply.
Better sluts.....single moms on me
Mature pussies getting fucked and they bring money
See, I do take her there......my sperm goes everywhere
And that's the life I live.....like everyday
(I take out my phone and pretend to be receiving a call – “Oh hello Mrs Yamani. Oh you need it right now? Okay, I’ll be there ASAP! I end the conversation and deliver the final knockout punch-line to the Oyeku Nigga.)
YEAH! I'MA CHOOK-HER STAR!
It was such a big shame that I never got to see whatever expression that Ice Pwince wore on his pitiful face. In an instant, I was knocked out flat on the floor by a heavy punch from Mr. Bouncer. I must have been out for like 3 minutes but when I opened my eyes, I was resting in a seat beside my good friend Woody. I wasn’t sure when he actually joined me but I could feel a plaster over my nose, which I felt was broken. I looked around and discovered that the room was already full with patrons who were jumping and bopping their heads to a loud ‘Oyeku’ performance from the one and only Ice Pwince himself. In front of me and on my table was a can of Guinness stout, which made my eyes open wide. I quickly made a rush for it.
“Easy there buddy!” Woody said to me smiling. “Slip slowly ehn? I could only pull off one favour from the manager. I doubt he’d be willing to allow another can in.”
“Uhum…I see.” I said gulping the shit. I tilted my head a bit too much backwards and felt a sharp pain in my nose. “Ouch!” I moaned, placing my right palm on it.
“Sorry mayne!” Whatever happened between you and Ice Pwince anyway?”
“Mayne, FUCK HIM JOOR! He and his ‘dog’ there are just plain stupid. I hate that nigga!”
“Plain stupid? You hate him?? Mayne I don’t get you, you know? I thought everybody loves Ice Pwince???”
“SHARAAAP!” I bellowed. “Not everybody loves Ice Pwince!”
(THE END)
The sight within definitely didn’t disappoint…..the sound was the actual problem. It was boring as fuck. Everything I saw appealed to my sense of sight but what I heard the moment I stepped into the exquisite-looking pub insulted my sense of sound. The scenery, such an oxymoron, was dark and sinful, yet bright and beautiful. Flashy coloured bulbs lit everywhere in a subtle manner. There were tall seats directly in front of the bar, looking very inviting with their bright varying colours. The regular tables placed strategically around the room, though quite small, seemed like they could carry a few rounds of drinks without actually complaining. Picture frames of famous musicians; both foreign and local, were hung on the walls and the big cushion seats looked very cosy. Some hustlers who were pretending to be actual customers were already seated and sipping slowly from bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Obviously, they were waiting for potential customers to find them attractive enough to join them, pay for their drinks and possibly negotiate a round or two of fuckery. I knew their game damn too well. They certainly couldn’t fool me…..lolz
Now the sound ehn?....Chai! There was a big problem with the music. Celine Dion’s ‘All coming back to me’ was the track that the DJ was playing and I didn’t know how the bloody hell I was expected to practice both my ‘Azonto’ and ‘Etighi’ dance steps to that. Anyway, at least the music wasn’t loud enough to disturb a phone conversation. I decided to call Woody and report the whack-ass DJ to him.
I strolled towards the bar counter and chose a tall green seat. I suspected the barman instantly wanted to welcome me and take my order but I had already taken-out my phone, dialled my buddy’s number and placed it close to my right ear. The barman paused just then and pretended to be looking at the menu, which he had by now, placed in front of me.
“Hello….Yo! where you at mayne? It’s already 7pm and you better not keep this nigga waiting.” I threatened my pal jokingly.
“Er…hey buddy! Er…em…look I’m sorry mayne. Tha Bossman sure kept me working longer than usual. However, I shouldn’t be late for more than an extra hour. Sorry buddy!”
“What da fuck! You mean you gon’ leave me here all by myself in this strange looking place for an extra 60 minutes?”
“Sorry but can’t help it mayne. I’ll make up for it. And you can’t possibly be alone nau! Ain’t no hootchies around?” his voice sounded pacifying.
“Er..well, there are a bunch of ‘em but they all ain’t look good to me.” Came my response.
“You don’t say. Well do try and find one you can manage ehn? My treat!” I could instantly sense Woody’s smile.
“Gosh! You do know how to compensate a nigga. Okay then! Thanks!” I hoped he could equally sense my grin. I hung up and tucked the phone back into my pocket.
The patient barman quickly seized the long-awaited moment and sang out a beautiful string of words, which I assumed he used on all new customers. “You’re welcome to El-Devino’s sir. Here you’ll experience relaxation and satisfaction like never before. An ambient atmosphere we have here to help you ease-out whatever stress you may be carrying on your shoulders sir. What may I get your esteemed self to drink please?”
I admired his courtesy in as much as it failed to make me feel as special as it intended to. “Er…would you by any chance have a cold bottle of Guinness?” I asked mindfully.
The shock that instantly took over his face was both glaring and amusing as he quickly sized me up. “Oh certainly not sir! Pardon me but that thick, black, unrefined liquid is for only those without fine taste. No offense sir. I would encourage you to go for something more befitting….something more matching with your fine look sir.”
Chai!!! In my head I was like “Shoo! Did this bloody civilian bartender just insult my most revered brand of stout or what? Is he mad? Didn’t he know that stout was for real men? That stout was beneficial to the body in more ways than one? Was he such a fool???” However, the words that ended up leaving my mouth were “Oh really? Er…okay. Em…..how about you surprise me then?” while forcing a smile.
The idiotic barman suddenly brightened up with excitement. “Oh very well sir! I have got just the thing for you. One ‘Bloody Mary’ coming up!” he said, leaving my presence just then to go about mixing a concoction I was completely unfamiliar with.
“Hmmn….A Bloody Mary? Does she come with a soaked pad? I asked giving my best wicked smile.
“Huh? I beg your pardon”
“Er…Never mind! I was only thinking out loud.” I quickly submitted. The fool didn’t get the joke and I sure didn’t want to piss him off enough to have him slip something into my glass cup.
“Here you are sir!” My drink had no longer been served on the counter than the big glass doors instantly flew open and he swaggered in. Yes! In full royalty, he swaggered in. I’m referring to that Shoc Boi o!….That nigga Ice Pwince. Bouncing in in the company of a monster-looking aide and a middle-aged man in suit, he was ushered towards a row of cushion seats at the far end of the room and that was exactly when shit started to go down.
As the ‘Oyeku Master’ walked in with magician swag, the female hustlers who had been sipping from their bottles and who looked in the direction of the entrance/exit just when I did, quickly recognised him and went into a frenzy. In a flash, they were all up and dashing towards the newest celebrity patron screaming “Ice Pwince!...Oh my God, it’s Ice Pwince! I love you Ice Pwince!..ICE PWINCE!!!”
It was just a huge shame about what came next. It was either the bouncer was gay as fuck or he just simply hated the ugly sight of hustlers trying to get at his boss. Just when these bitches got close enough to wrap their arms around their’ Magician’, the gigantic fella swung one arm out in a vicious attempt to block them. The end result was disastrous indeed. The first bitch got hit and flew in my direction, crashing on me and more sadly, knocking off my drink; a drink whose taste I was still yet to savour.
The deed being done, the other hustlers stopped in their tracks first before making a diversion towards where their friend lay on the floor. Shock was written all over their faces and such was the expression on that of my dear bartender. Only Ice Pwince and I wore similar looks of indifference on our faces, left alone for the wicked aide whose facial expression remained the stone-cold same. Oh yeah! The man in suit who I suspected was the pub manager only shook his head in pity at the ladies.
It wasn’t until these hoes had helped their comrade up and were making their way back to their seats that both the barman and Ice Pwince noticed me rubbing and cleaning off some of the drink that spilled on my pants. Just as the bartender kept saying “sorry sir” for the wasted expensive drink that I was still going to pay for, something both amusing and surprising happened.
I never imagined such could happen but it actually did. He must have probably sized me up from where he stood and realised I was a customer who couldn’t be treated with disdain. He ignored the plea from the suited fool who kept urging him to keep on walking with him, probably to the waiting VIP section of the joint. In any case, that was simply how our ‘Oyeku Master’ made his way towards me.
“Sorry bruv. My bad. Don’t worry, I gatchu!” he said to me before turning to the barman “Yo! Could you please entertain my good man here with a bottle of Henny on me?”
“Nah mayne! It’s okay. I planned on getting myself another drink anyway. Just gotta wipe this off. Thanks still.” Was my exact reply.
Ice Pwince seemed startled for a moment. He sized me up again and said “Yo! I ruined your earlier attempt at drinking. It’s only proper that I make it up to you and set things right mayne” he said very persuasively.
I didn’t want to rudely refuse his generous offer but I also didn’t want him to buy me a drink out of sheer guilt. After all, I also came with my money. It wasn’t the kind celebrities like the Shoc Boi made but it was surely my proud income.
“It’s okay Ice Pwince. You really don’t need to compensate me. I’m capable of buying myself another round” I said gently and politely but Ice Pwince refused to budge and that was exactly when the situation started to get out of hand.
“What? C’mon mayne! I mean, you already know me. This is Ice pwince bruv. Okay, okay I’m actually insisting on buying you a chilled bottle of Henny. You know I rep that brand? Plus you know…………(breaking into his song)
Anytime we talk say we go rock o! We go all the way….We go all the way!
Now, I was like “what tha fuck!!! Was this fool actually singing to me? Did I look like the ‘hootchies’ his bouncer fenced off earlier?” I decided to show him.
I gave a good chuckle first and then a smile before responding to an equally smiling Ice Pwince. “Yeah I know. But then I am Dr. Cockintush and em………”
Anytime I talk say I go fuck o! I go all the way…….I go all the way!
Ice Pwince certainly didn’t realise then whom exactly he was dealing with. He was still bent on showing off and said “Oho! So my bruv here sings too huh? Cool mayne! However…………………(and resumed singing)
Better cars…better clothes on me
Better houses….better parties….better girls on me
See I can take you there….champagne everywhere
And that’s the life we live….like everyday
Yeah, I’ma SUPERSTAR!!!
“Haha!” Ice Pwince laughed at his own cleverness not knowing who he was up against. His bouncer had joined us by now and was staring at me suspiciously. I didn’t give a damn about him though. I gave the ‘Oyeku Master’ my sharp and insulting reply.
Better sluts.....single moms on me
Mature pussies getting fucked and they bring money
See, I do take her there......my sperm goes everywhere
And that's the life I live.....like everyday
(I take out my phone and pretend to be receiving a call – “Oh hello Mrs Yamani. Oh you need it right now? Okay, I’ll be there ASAP! I end the conversation and deliver the final knockout punch-line to the Oyeku Nigga.)
YEAH! I'MA CHOOK-HER STAR!
It was such a big shame that I never got to see whatever expression that Ice Pwince wore on his pitiful face. In an instant, I was knocked out flat on the floor by a heavy punch from Mr. Bouncer. I must have been out for like 3 minutes but when I opened my eyes, I was resting in a seat beside my good friend Woody. I wasn’t sure when he actually joined me but I could feel a plaster over my nose, which I felt was broken. I looked around and discovered that the room was already full with patrons who were jumping and bopping their heads to a loud ‘Oyeku’ performance from the one and only Ice Pwince himself. In front of me and on my table was a can of Guinness stout, which made my eyes open wide. I quickly made a rush for it.
“Easy there buddy!” Woody said to me smiling. “Slip slowly ehn? I could only pull off one favour from the manager. I doubt he’d be willing to allow another can in.”
“Uhum…I see.” I said gulping the shit. I tilted my head a bit too much backwards and felt a sharp pain in my nose. “Ouch!” I moaned, placing my right palm on it.
“Sorry mayne!” Whatever happened between you and Ice Pwince anyway?”
“Mayne, FUCK HIM JOOR! He and his ‘dog’ there are just plain stupid. I hate that nigga!”
“Plain stupid? You hate him?? Mayne I don’t get you, you know? I thought everybody loves Ice Pwince???”
“SHARAAAP!” I bellowed. “Not everybody loves Ice Pwince!”
(THE END)
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Sharrap! Not Everybody Loves Ice Pwince
*shaking ma head*…..All these celebrities sef! They just think they’re the shit, don’t they? They think they’re badasses and can do just what the fuck they want and to whomever they want, right? *smh*…. I mean, so what if you’re an Oyeku Master? Nigga you ain’t shit to me. So what if you’re a freaking Shoc Boi?? You sure ain’t shit to me! And so fucking what if you’re either a Magician or a Superstar??? Damn you still ain’t shit to me!!! Look, I’m gon’ fucking become a superstar myself someday, and when I do, I’m gonna be fucking humble and nice to people. You best believe that.
Hey you! Better person. Wasup jawe? I’m sure you’re wondering what is up with me today. Well, I ain’t feeling so good right now because I’m currently nursing a broken nose. My fucking precious nose that I use to sniff a good pussy before licking was broken by the one and only self-acclaimed Oyeku Master – Ice Pwince. Damn I hate that nigga!!! Oh my poor nose!…*sad face*
Well, actually, it wasn’t the ‘Icy Namani’ who did the punching and resulting nose-breaking. His bouncer did but the stupid-ass mo’fucker didn’t even hold him back or anything. All he kept asking while peering into my dazed and bloody face on the floor was “Shit! Are you alright mayne? Are you alright?”. Fuck! Like that question was going to help my situation. Anyway, I don’t blame him. If not for the fact that I’m a peace-loving nigga and I somewhat dig his music, I would be making sure he hears from my lawyers soon.
You know what? Damn that nigga Woody as well for making me visit that pub in the first place. If Woody had not persuaded me to patronise that lame-ass pub, I wouldn’t have gotten fucking punched in the face. I would have had my regular fun with stout and a new young hoe at Mama Nkechi’s place. No whack-ass celebrity goes there to make trouble for sure. I’m just glad Woody called earlier to say he’d be checking-in today from work. I’ll do my best to make him ‘feel my pain’ when he gets here.
The nose-breaking tale all started last week Friday with Woody bugging me and bitching about some new pub that recently opened in my neighbourhood.
“C’mon, mayne! It would be good to hang-out somewhere new for a change” he began that very Friday afternoon over a phone conversation.
“Mayne, I don’t know. I think I’d prefer the usual fun. Besides that place looks too posh for my liking. What if they don’t sell stout?”
There you go again bro. Of course they won’t have stout on sale! It’s a new and classy place mayne! You’re supposed to step up your game and drink expensive spirits like true hommies do. Must you always drink stout? There’d be Henny, Vodka, Cognac and the likes to choose from. We can try those. C’mon mayne, let’s spend this money right!”
“Spend money right? Are you fucking kidding me?? You very well know that I can afford all these brands of liquor you’re mentioning. It’s just that stout always gives me that unique feeling which no other drink can. I mean, I’ve sampled most drinks nau! You know nau! What is so special about Remy Martin, Jelzin Vodka, J&W whisky, Mc Dowells and er….er…” but Woody didn’t let me finish.
“I know, I know! Even if it’s Jack Daniels, I very well know you can afford it. Okay, you know what? Pleeeeeaase just do me this favour tonight and let’s hang out at this new joint just this one time. After tonight, we can return to patronising your dear Mama Nkechi. C’mon mayne! C’mon!” I could feel the sincere plea in his voice and I was moved. Damn! The sacrifices I make for friends.
“Okay, okay! Just this one time. We’ll hang-out at the new spot. What time do we meet up?” I asked my dear pal.
“The usual time buddy. 7pm!” His voice had gone back to the normal cheerful and excited tone now and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay buddy! We’ll hook up by 7. Don’t be late!” I warned him.
“Nah! I won’t be. I’ll get off by 5 as usual and be there as soon as I can. I might even join you before 7pm, who knows? You know the new spot is even closer to the crib? It’s closer than your dear Mama Nkechi’s bar and you’ll definitely save some money on transp……” I quickly retaliated and cut in.
“Hey buddy! Don’t push your luck. I just might change my mind about your idea now. Mama Nkechi comes first anytime, anyday, okay?”
I felt the soberness in my pal’s reply “Yeah, okay. Please don’t change your mind.”
And that was how the venue for our hang-out that Friday was settled. By 6:30pm, I was already dressed-up and ready to go out. The thought of biking to the new spot made me a bit nervous though. Each time I passed by the place from my frequent outings, exquisite cars were always parked in front of its vicinity; giving it that classy and elite look. Mama Nkechi’s place however was regularly bombarded with regular, everyday vehicles and commonplace motorcycles. At Mama Nkechi’s place, I always felt free and felt like I could be myself with stout, loud music and female company. I didn’t know what to expect at this new place. What if I didn’t like it? Oh well! A promise made is a promise to be kept.
I locked the apartment and headed out onto the street where I found an okada man dropping off a passenger close by. “How far? You dey go?” I asked as I sped up my walk. “Where I dey go oga?” the hausa rider responded smiling, obviously admiring my outfit consisting of a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt on straight Levis jeans and Clarks trekkers with a Gucci wristwatch and leather wristband to complete the wicked look.
“I dey go El-Devino’s” came my reply.
Okay “I go carry am por 80 Naira”.
“Huh? El-Devino’s just down the road? No o! Na 50 Naira I get.”
“Hava oga! I na vig man nau! See as I pine well-well. Dash me sometin nau oga!” *smiling*
I guess his compliment worked like a charm. “Okay. Make we go”. I got on the bike and we zoomed off.
I ditched the okada man a few yards from El-Devino’s. I didn’t want to make it obvious to everyone at the entrance that I arrived on a bike. Woody would have easily queried me “Guy, why you go fall ma hand nau? Why you no take your car?” I didn’t want to drive though because I knew he would be driving straight there from the office. It made no sense to me leaving the place as friends in two separate cars. What the bloody hell were we trying to prove???..........................(To Be Continued)
Hey you! Better person. Wasup jawe? I’m sure you’re wondering what is up with me today. Well, I ain’t feeling so good right now because I’m currently nursing a broken nose. My fucking precious nose that I use to sniff a good pussy before licking was broken by the one and only self-acclaimed Oyeku Master – Ice Pwince. Damn I hate that nigga!!! Oh my poor nose!…*sad face*
Well, actually, it wasn’t the ‘Icy Namani’ who did the punching and resulting nose-breaking. His bouncer did but the stupid-ass mo’fucker didn’t even hold him back or anything. All he kept asking while peering into my dazed and bloody face on the floor was “Shit! Are you alright mayne? Are you alright?”. Fuck! Like that question was going to help my situation. Anyway, I don’t blame him. If not for the fact that I’m a peace-loving nigga and I somewhat dig his music, I would be making sure he hears from my lawyers soon.
You know what? Damn that nigga Woody as well for making me visit that pub in the first place. If Woody had not persuaded me to patronise that lame-ass pub, I wouldn’t have gotten fucking punched in the face. I would have had my regular fun with stout and a new young hoe at Mama Nkechi’s place. No whack-ass celebrity goes there to make trouble for sure. I’m just glad Woody called earlier to say he’d be checking-in today from work. I’ll do my best to make him ‘feel my pain’ when he gets here.
The nose-breaking tale all started last week Friday with Woody bugging me and bitching about some new pub that recently opened in my neighbourhood.
“C’mon, mayne! It would be good to hang-out somewhere new for a change” he began that very Friday afternoon over a phone conversation.
“Mayne, I don’t know. I think I’d prefer the usual fun. Besides that place looks too posh for my liking. What if they don’t sell stout?”
There you go again bro. Of course they won’t have stout on sale! It’s a new and classy place mayne! You’re supposed to step up your game and drink expensive spirits like true hommies do. Must you always drink stout? There’d be Henny, Vodka, Cognac and the likes to choose from. We can try those. C’mon mayne, let’s spend this money right!”
“Spend money right? Are you fucking kidding me?? You very well know that I can afford all these brands of liquor you’re mentioning. It’s just that stout always gives me that unique feeling which no other drink can. I mean, I’ve sampled most drinks nau! You know nau! What is so special about Remy Martin, Jelzin Vodka, J&W whisky, Mc Dowells and er….er…” but Woody didn’t let me finish.
“I know, I know! Even if it’s Jack Daniels, I very well know you can afford it. Okay, you know what? Pleeeeeaase just do me this favour tonight and let’s hang out at this new joint just this one time. After tonight, we can return to patronising your dear Mama Nkechi. C’mon mayne! C’mon!” I could feel the sincere plea in his voice and I was moved. Damn! The sacrifices I make for friends.
“Okay, okay! Just this one time. We’ll hang-out at the new spot. What time do we meet up?” I asked my dear pal.
“The usual time buddy. 7pm!” His voice had gone back to the normal cheerful and excited tone now and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay buddy! We’ll hook up by 7. Don’t be late!” I warned him.
“Nah! I won’t be. I’ll get off by 5 as usual and be there as soon as I can. I might even join you before 7pm, who knows? You know the new spot is even closer to the crib? It’s closer than your dear Mama Nkechi’s bar and you’ll definitely save some money on transp……” I quickly retaliated and cut in.
“Hey buddy! Don’t push your luck. I just might change my mind about your idea now. Mama Nkechi comes first anytime, anyday, okay?”
I felt the soberness in my pal’s reply “Yeah, okay. Please don’t change your mind.”
And that was how the venue for our hang-out that Friday was settled. By 6:30pm, I was already dressed-up and ready to go out. The thought of biking to the new spot made me a bit nervous though. Each time I passed by the place from my frequent outings, exquisite cars were always parked in front of its vicinity; giving it that classy and elite look. Mama Nkechi’s place however was regularly bombarded with regular, everyday vehicles and commonplace motorcycles. At Mama Nkechi’s place, I always felt free and felt like I could be myself with stout, loud music and female company. I didn’t know what to expect at this new place. What if I didn’t like it? Oh well! A promise made is a promise to be kept.
I locked the apartment and headed out onto the street where I found an okada man dropping off a passenger close by. “How far? You dey go?” I asked as I sped up my walk. “Where I dey go oga?” the hausa rider responded smiling, obviously admiring my outfit consisting of a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt on straight Levis jeans and Clarks trekkers with a Gucci wristwatch and leather wristband to complete the wicked look.
“I dey go El-Devino’s” came my reply.
Okay “I go carry am por 80 Naira”.
“Huh? El-Devino’s just down the road? No o! Na 50 Naira I get.”
“Hava oga! I na vig man nau! See as I pine well-well. Dash me sometin nau oga!” *smiling*
I guess his compliment worked like a charm. “Okay. Make we go”. I got on the bike and we zoomed off.
I ditched the okada man a few yards from El-Devino’s. I didn’t want to make it obvious to everyone at the entrance that I arrived on a bike. Woody would have easily queried me “Guy, why you go fall ma hand nau? Why you no take your car?” I didn’t want to drive though because I knew he would be driving straight there from the office. It made no sense to me leaving the place as friends in two separate cars. What the bloody hell were we trying to prove???..........................(To Be Continued)
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Who the Bloody Hell is Mr. Peniscillin?
Hallo you! Doing good huh? Cool! I’m doing just fine here too.
Today marks the start of yet another weekend and I feel like talking about something new…something different…something quite P.E.R.S.O.N.A.L. Yep! Fo’sho!
I’m sure you’ve, by now, noticed how I often mention a certain ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ in my stories. Right? Well today, I’ve decided to tell you all about him and allow you get to know him better.
So who the bloody hell is ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ you might ask. You see, ‘Mr. Peniscilin’ aka ‘Mr. P’ is my Precious and Powerful Piece of Prick, Potent enough to Please, Paralyse or Prosper any Potential or Permanent Pussy through Pleasurable Penetration. Get it? In simple terms though, (just incase you’re slow) ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ is my PENIS aka dick.
I bet you’re curious now as to why I gave ‘him’ that name. *Chuckle* Well, it’s kinda funny because at first, I really wasn’t sure of what to name ‘him’ for the purpose of blogging. You see, before I started blogging, I always called ‘him’ ‘Junior’. All the girls I’ve fucked and I still fuck call him ‘Junior’ (Although, some have now switched to the new name - Mr. P). Anyway, I chose that name for a very simple reason. You know the drug ‘Penicillin’ used in the treatment of certain diseases? You know it huh? Cool! My own very ‘Peniscillin’ equally treats certain kinds of diseases using a powerful ‘Penis’ element; hence the name.
You’re lost huh? Okay, allow me explain. Are you a hoe who gets constantly horny? I mean, does your ‘kini’ always scratch you? If yes, you’ve got a disease called Nymphomania and my ‘Peniscillin’ definitely remains your best treatment/medication.
Are you a hoe who is unhappy with her sex life? Are you sad that you don’t get banged just the way you want it and just enough to get you squishing out cum? You are suffering from ‘Ecstasy Insatiable Syndrome (EIS) and my ‘Mr. Peniscillin is certainly your best remedy.
Are you also a virgin who is desperate to ‘spread her coast’, ‘open her door to BIG COCKpportunities’ and experience ‘Cloud 9’? You’re a potential hoe and you need some enCOCKragement. You need some Peniscillin fo’sho!
Now, I realise you might, by now, be thinking I’m talking crap as well as asking yourself “What is even special about this fool’s Mr. Peniscillin sef”. Well, allow me give you a rundown of his bio data.
NAME : Mr. Peniscillin
NICKNAME: Mr. P
AGE: 12 (From full maturity)
SEX: Fucking Great
COMPLEXION: Chocolate
WEIGHT: 0.875 X 1.90 Ounces
LENGTH: 5.35 x 1.6 Inches (When erect)
LOCATION: Wherever Dr. Cockintush can be found
OCCUPATION: Sexologist/ CUMputer specialist
BLOOD GROUP/GENOTYPE: S
HOBBIES: Sexploitation
Yeah! Those are his basic or default features but you bet that there are special others. I call them Mr. P’s ‘Special Moves’. Do you play combat video games??? Here’s what I mean………………………..
Special Move 1: Pressing Down for 2 seconds and then releasing while a bitch is in themissionary position makes Mr. P do the ‘Pussy Stump’.
Special Move 2: Pressing Back for 2 seconds, Forward and L2, while a bitch is in the doggy position, makes Mr. P do the ‘Doggy Pump’.
Special Move 3: Holding L1 for 5 seconds and releasing during the ‘Doggy Pump’ leads to the ‘Dick Drill’.
Special Move 4: Tapping Up Up Down Up will make Mr. P do the ‘Pussy Push-up’.
Special Move 5: Tapping Block Up Up prevents Mr. P from ejaculating prematurely.
Special Move 6: Holding R2 for 5 seconds and releasing during any position will make Mr. P give the ‘Tip Drill’ or ‘Sonic Vibrator’ (subject to the width of the pussy in question).
Special Move 7: Perfect timing of thrusts, when combined with the quick slide of R3 makes Mr. P do the ‘FATALITY’. Bitches with anaemia, asthma or the sickle-cell disease need to be wary of this super move because here, Mr. P goes into a ‘Rage’ and instantly makes great effort to tear the pussy being pounded apart.
So there you have it! These are Mr. P’s unique and special moves. He’s good huh? Yeah, I know. I fucking trained him and I’m truly proud of what he’s become *wiping off a tear of joy*. Often times, I get so proud of Mr. P that I twist Ludacris’ song titled ‘My Chick Bad’ and rap out –
My dick bad
My dick good
My dick do shit that your prick wish it could
I must mention though that despite Mr. P’s awesomeness, he’s been through a whole lot in the hands of both bitches and hoes. So far, he’s been spat-on, tongue-lashed, mouth-imprisoned, cunt-chained and bathed with both cum and sticky saliva. Regardless of this however, Mr. P still stands tall and erect up till this very moment……lolz.
Now, I’ve told you enough about Mr. P, haven’t I? I believe I have. I believe by now you know him well enough to understand his personality plus his capabilities. Right? Cool! Incase you need more information about him though, you may ask a question through thatbloodypervert@hushmail.com. You’ll definitely get a response.
So! That just about sums it up for Mr. P. I hope to have you here again when I publish another story. While I bow out now, I leave you with my twist on some lyrics from Gyptian……………….
Gurl come now test me warrior
Put ma sweet dick inside ya
And I’ll guarantee you the tightest fuck you’ve ever had ina your life
Grind me up let me tease ya
Shove me thick prick inside ya
I guarantee you the tightest cock you’ve ever had ina your life.
HAPPY WEEKEND !!!
Today marks the start of yet another weekend and I feel like talking about something new…something different…something quite P.E.R.S.O.N.A.L. Yep! Fo’sho!
I’m sure you’ve, by now, noticed how I often mention a certain ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ in my stories. Right? Well today, I’ve decided to tell you all about him and allow you get to know him better.
So who the bloody hell is ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ you might ask. You see, ‘Mr. Peniscilin’ aka ‘Mr. P’ is my Precious and Powerful Piece of Prick, Potent enough to Please, Paralyse or Prosper any Potential or Permanent Pussy through Pleasurable Penetration. Get it? In simple terms though, (just incase you’re slow) ‘Mr. Peniscillin’ is my PENIS aka dick.
I bet you’re curious now as to why I gave ‘him’ that name. *Chuckle* Well, it’s kinda funny because at first, I really wasn’t sure of what to name ‘him’ for the purpose of blogging. You see, before I started blogging, I always called ‘him’ ‘Junior’. All the girls I’ve fucked and I still fuck call him ‘Junior’ (Although, some have now switched to the new name - Mr. P). Anyway, I chose that name for a very simple reason. You know the drug ‘Penicillin’ used in the treatment of certain diseases? You know it huh? Cool! My own very ‘Peniscillin’ equally treats certain kinds of diseases using a powerful ‘Penis’ element; hence the name.
You’re lost huh? Okay, allow me explain. Are you a hoe who gets constantly horny? I mean, does your ‘kini’ always scratch you? If yes, you’ve got a disease called Nymphomania and my ‘Peniscillin’ definitely remains your best treatment/medication.
Are you a hoe who is unhappy with her sex life? Are you sad that you don’t get banged just the way you want it and just enough to get you squishing out cum? You are suffering from ‘Ecstasy Insatiable Syndrome (EIS) and my ‘Mr. Peniscillin is certainly your best remedy.
Are you also a virgin who is desperate to ‘spread her coast’, ‘open her door to BIG COCKpportunities’ and experience ‘Cloud 9’? You’re a potential hoe and you need some enCOCKragement. You need some Peniscillin fo’sho!
Now, I realise you might, by now, be thinking I’m talking crap as well as asking yourself “What is even special about this fool’s Mr. Peniscillin sef”. Well, allow me give you a rundown of his bio data.
NAME : Mr. Peniscillin
NICKNAME: Mr. P
AGE: 12 (From full maturity)
SEX: Fucking Great
COMPLEXION: Chocolate
WEIGHT: 0.875 X 1.90 Ounces
LENGTH: 5.35 x 1.6 Inches (When erect)
LOCATION: Wherever Dr. Cockintush can be found
OCCUPATION: Sexologist/ CUMputer specialist
BLOOD GROUP/GENOTYPE: S
HOBBIES: Sexploitation
Yeah! Those are his basic or default features but you bet that there are special others. I call them Mr. P’s ‘Special Moves’. Do you play combat video games??? Here’s what I mean………………………..
Special Move 1: Pressing Down for 2 seconds and then releasing while a bitch is in themissionary position makes Mr. P do the ‘Pussy Stump’.
Special Move 2: Pressing Back for 2 seconds, Forward and L2, while a bitch is in the doggy position, makes Mr. P do the ‘Doggy Pump’.
Special Move 3: Holding L1 for 5 seconds and releasing during the ‘Doggy Pump’ leads to the ‘Dick Drill’.
Special Move 4: Tapping Up Up Down Up will make Mr. P do the ‘Pussy Push-up’.
Special Move 5: Tapping Block Up Up prevents Mr. P from ejaculating prematurely.
Special Move 6: Holding R2 for 5 seconds and releasing during any position will make Mr. P give the ‘Tip Drill’ or ‘Sonic Vibrator’ (subject to the width of the pussy in question).
Special Move 7: Perfect timing of thrusts, when combined with the quick slide of R3 makes Mr. P do the ‘FATALITY’. Bitches with anaemia, asthma or the sickle-cell disease need to be wary of this super move because here, Mr. P goes into a ‘Rage’ and instantly makes great effort to tear the pussy being pounded apart.
So there you have it! These are Mr. P’s unique and special moves. He’s good huh? Yeah, I know. I fucking trained him and I’m truly proud of what he’s become *wiping off a tear of joy*. Often times, I get so proud of Mr. P that I twist Ludacris’ song titled ‘My Chick Bad’ and rap out –
My dick bad
My dick good
My dick do shit that your prick wish it could
I must mention though that despite Mr. P’s awesomeness, he’s been through a whole lot in the hands of both bitches and hoes. So far, he’s been spat-on, tongue-lashed, mouth-imprisoned, cunt-chained and bathed with both cum and sticky saliva. Regardless of this however, Mr. P still stands tall and erect up till this very moment……lolz.
Now, I’ve told you enough about Mr. P, haven’t I? I believe I have. I believe by now you know him well enough to understand his personality plus his capabilities. Right? Cool! Incase you need more information about him though, you may ask a question through thatbloodypervert@hushmail.com. You’ll definitely get a response.
So! That just about sums it up for Mr. P. I hope to have you here again when I publish another story. While I bow out now, I leave you with my twist on some lyrics from Gyptian……………….
Gurl come now test me warrior
Put ma sweet dick inside ya
And I’ll guarantee you the tightest fuck you’ve ever had ina your life
Grind me up let me tease ya
Shove me thick prick inside ya
I guarantee you the tightest cock you’ve ever had ina your life.
HAPPY WEEKEND !!!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Your ‘Mtscheew’ Won’t Make You Come By Finger or By Fist
Hallo there! How are ya? Fine I hope. I also bet you’re surprised to find me here again so soon. Well, I really didn’t intend to put up a new post until much later but a new and surprising development prompted this. You know what it is? Can you guess? C’mon nau! Try and take one good fucking guess. How far? Any luck? Choi! You be olodo! Oya stop racking your weak-ass brain joor and lemme tell ya.
You see, yesterday was a fucking memorable day for me. As in, a red-letter day of some sort; a unique day; a special day; history in the making, blah blah blah! Call it whatever you like but just understand that yesterday was indeed a very remarkable day in the history of my blog. Why? Because my blog got its FIRST HATER!
Yeah! I’m fucking serious! My blog recorded its first DISS ever! Honestly, I’m glad. I’m stupendously pleased because before now, I used to wonder if peeps actually read my stories, talk less of finding them entertaining enough. I used to think that Google fed me with ‘zobo’ concerning number of page-views and all that mumbo-jumbo regarding my readership but I guess I’m no longer a ‘Doubting Thomas’. Google, abeg no vex for me o! You know say I still remain loyal? If no be una, how I for take dey share my perverted thoughts to the world naa???. Abeg no mind me o! Una get mouth!....lolz.
Yeah, as I was saying, I am now convinced that peeps actually do read my shit despite the fact that they are too lazy to leave comments. Shit happens you know? I know that one day sha, I’ll be having comments pouring in non-stop like my blog-goddess’ erotic blog. I’ll be patient.
Now, let it be known, this post is dedicated to my first hater. It’s important that I put up this post because, in all the 33 or so days that my blog has been in existence, I only got my first diss yesterday. Now is that remarkable or what?
Since I saw that ‘Mtscheeew!’ comment, I’ve been thinking. “How did such a comment come about? Did my mystery person somehow, by pure luck or anything, actually get to read that post and got pissed? I certainly hope not because even though she is now my second most favourite blogger, I still admire and respect her.”
I consulted my hostel buddies while we drank beer last night on the matter and became convinced otherwise. According to what they jointly said – “Guy na lie joor! You think say that celebrity blogger go get dat kain time to waste on small fry like you? E go be all these your female readers wey dey usually masturbate to your regular stories. You know say you dey normally describe sex well for your posts and that title, ‘She must come by fire, by force’ dey suggest correct hardcore sex? The person just vex after im read am say im nor fit wank to am because you no describe how you make person ‘come’ for there. Na so the tin be o! No mind that person. Na lamba!”
I later pondered over this and was like “hmmn….this is most likely true”. My buddies raised valid points and that reader probably opened my post in wanking excitement, only to find out that the post was about a somewhat boring confession and addressed to someone in particular. Na wa o!
But chill though! I know I am a sex blogger but that shouldn’t mean I must be the typical sex blogger. Can’t I just be unique and be that sex blogger with a difference? Are you not fed up the usual “He came close to me and my body ached for his touch. He kissed me and gently licked my nipples while I gasped in helpless pleasure before he gently put one finger inside my pussy and fingered me. I responded by sucking his dick and we fucked and fucking bloody came….blah..blah..blah!” Is that the kind of sex tale you want to read for the rest of your life? DON’T YOU WANT SOMETHING DIFFERENT?....SOMETHING WITH FLAVOUR AND TWISTS? Na wa for you o!
The simple truth is that there are many blogs out there that people can actually wank to; such as my personal favourite – ratederotic.com. I honestly advise anyone interested in wanking to visit that site and knock himself/herself out. Trust me, that is an AWESOME website to visit when you’re horny or just want to be sexually entertained. My blog however, is more often than not, about using corrupted song lyrics to tell sexual stories. I also add a little bit of humour whenever possible. So why the bloody hell must I conform to GIVING FULL DETAILS OF EVERY FUCKING SEX SCENARIO??? *sigh*. Some of my readers just don’t get me yet but in time, I know they surely will.
Now, I don’t normally do this, but since I’m talking about history in the making, allow me address my first hater now……………………
“Dear hater, thank you very much for your ‘Mtscheew’ comment. You try well-well and I’m grateful. Infact, I’m so grateful that I wish you the exact same and lots of similar comments when you start your own blog (that is if your brain will ever be creative enough to make such a bold move). Now, from what I saw, it is quite clear that you were very disappointed with my last post. You feel like I led you on with my powerful post title – ‘She must come by fire, by force’ and got pissed when I refused to describe how I actually made any bitch come. My bad!
Look hoe, it’s not too late to still use that dildo or vibrator of yours. Allow me make up for your disappointment with this story. It’s full of hard-core sex and I’m sure you’ll like it.”……………………………………….
Last week, we (YOU and I) met in a pub and while I was minding my own business, you suddenly walked up to me with stinky breath and cried out “Mr. Pervert, please, I need your help. I have never had an orgasm in my life and that makes me scared. I feel like I am not normal and that scares the shit out of me. I have even tried all kinds and sizes of dicks, dildos and vibrators but all my cumming attempts have been to no avail. Please help me….I beg of you!”
I look you in the eyes like I’m searching them for the truth about the status of your pussy, shake my head in pity, thump my glass of stout hard on my table and bellow – “MR. PERVERT TO THE RESCUE!!!”
Soon, we are in a cab heading to your place. You initially requested that I take you to mine but I declined. My momma would beat the crap out of me if she saw what you looked like. After 15 minutes, we arrive your place and you immediately lead me to your room so we can go ‘straight to business’.
“Kiss me!” you begin by asking with pouted lips. “Hian! If I hear!” I respond. There ain’t no way I could taste your foul-smelling saliva. “Pull your pant joor! No be come you wan come?”
You get disappointed that I choose not to romance your lips but you cooperate anyway because you have no fucking choice. After all, you’re the bloody hoe in need, aren’t you?
As soon as you undress and you’re completely naked, I shake my head again. Nothing just seems right about you. Your face is wack. Your boobies have low self-esteem and your pussy has way too much bush. “Oya lie down” I say and you obey like the obedient bitch that you are.
You hand me a condom and expect me to start fucking you straight away but I have a plan of my own. I first insert one finger into your pussy and try to get you wet. Two fingers go in next and I start fingering you hard. But instead of moaning in pleasure, you’re making the ‘Mtscheew’ sound and I realise your case may be very serious. I then insert the third finger and you still go “Mtscheew”. Soon, the fourth and fifth go in too and since you’re still ‘Mtscheewing’, I become convinced that your pussy may be just too wide for me to actually help you achieve an orgasm.
With all five fingers thrusting deep and fast inside your fat, thick cunt, I ask you “Will you be coming soon” but your response is “No”. I then force my fist all the way up to my elbow inside your loose-ass pussy and it goes in freely. You moan loudly now and squirm in pleasure “Oooh! Awwww.! Yessssss!” but you still admit you won’t be coming anytime soon.
Some precum leaks from your cunt and you ask if I would be inserting my precious, sweet dick inside your wide-as-fuck punani. I tell you “soon” but I know better. I increase the tempo of the fist-fucking but after about 10 minutes you’re still yet to come. All you’re doing now is irritating me by squealing “Oh give it to me! I like the way you’re fucking me! Oh yes! Oh YES!!!”
Because I’m already fed up with your stupid-ass, miserable self, I reach for a big tuber of yam close to a pot under your bed. It is probably what you planned to have for dinner but I couldn’t care any less now. I need to return to the pub to continue my drinking even though I promised to make you come. I have to fulfil that promise despite your third-mainland bridge prototype vagina and your ‘Mtscheewing’. My fist may not be able to do the job but I bet the tuber of yam fucking will. After all, YOU MUST COME BY FIRE, BY FORCE!
THE END
P.S: Please, if there’s anyone…anybody at all out there who is close to TWEET ORACLE, the CEO of auracoolonline.com, I need some help. That fella has been outrageously kind to me and though I’ve thanked him, I strongly feel I haven’t communicated my ‘Thank You’ thoroughly. I do not wish to state all that he’s done for me here but if you truly are close to him, PRETTY PLEASE! try and make him understand that I’m fucking grateful and will always remain loyal and humble towards him. Only you can communicate such a message perfectly because you truly are close to him and he’ll get the depth of my gratitude from you.
God bless you as you help me with this. Thanks!
You see, yesterday was a fucking memorable day for me. As in, a red-letter day of some sort; a unique day; a special day; history in the making, blah blah blah! Call it whatever you like but just understand that yesterday was indeed a very remarkable day in the history of my blog. Why? Because my blog got its FIRST HATER!
Yeah! I’m fucking serious! My blog recorded its first DISS ever! Honestly, I’m glad. I’m stupendously pleased because before now, I used to wonder if peeps actually read my stories, talk less of finding them entertaining enough. I used to think that Google fed me with ‘zobo’ concerning number of page-views and all that mumbo-jumbo regarding my readership but I guess I’m no longer a ‘Doubting Thomas’. Google, abeg no vex for me o! You know say I still remain loyal? If no be una, how I for take dey share my perverted thoughts to the world naa???. Abeg no mind me o! Una get mouth!....lolz.
Yeah, as I was saying, I am now convinced that peeps actually do read my shit despite the fact that they are too lazy to leave comments. Shit happens you know? I know that one day sha, I’ll be having comments pouring in non-stop like my blog-goddess’ erotic blog. I’ll be patient.
Now, let it be known, this post is dedicated to my first hater. It’s important that I put up this post because, in all the 33 or so days that my blog has been in existence, I only got my first diss yesterday. Now is that remarkable or what?
Since I saw that ‘Mtscheeew!’ comment, I’ve been thinking. “How did such a comment come about? Did my mystery person somehow, by pure luck or anything, actually get to read that post and got pissed? I certainly hope not because even though she is now my second most favourite blogger, I still admire and respect her.”
I consulted my hostel buddies while we drank beer last night on the matter and became convinced otherwise. According to what they jointly said – “Guy na lie joor! You think say that celebrity blogger go get dat kain time to waste on small fry like you? E go be all these your female readers wey dey usually masturbate to your regular stories. You know say you dey normally describe sex well for your posts and that title, ‘She must come by fire, by force’ dey suggest correct hardcore sex? The person just vex after im read am say im nor fit wank to am because you no describe how you make person ‘come’ for there. Na so the tin be o! No mind that person. Na lamba!”
I later pondered over this and was like “hmmn….this is most likely true”. My buddies raised valid points and that reader probably opened my post in wanking excitement, only to find out that the post was about a somewhat boring confession and addressed to someone in particular. Na wa o!
But chill though! I know I am a sex blogger but that shouldn’t mean I must be the typical sex blogger. Can’t I just be unique and be that sex blogger with a difference? Are you not fed up the usual “He came close to me and my body ached for his touch. He kissed me and gently licked my nipples while I gasped in helpless pleasure before he gently put one finger inside my pussy and fingered me. I responded by sucking his dick and we fucked and fucking bloody came….blah..blah..blah!” Is that the kind of sex tale you want to read for the rest of your life? DON’T YOU WANT SOMETHING DIFFERENT?....SOMETHING WITH FLAVOUR AND TWISTS? Na wa for you o!
The simple truth is that there are many blogs out there that people can actually wank to; such as my personal favourite – ratederotic.com. I honestly advise anyone interested in wanking to visit that site and knock himself/herself out. Trust me, that is an AWESOME website to visit when you’re horny or just want to be sexually entertained. My blog however, is more often than not, about using corrupted song lyrics to tell sexual stories. I also add a little bit of humour whenever possible. So why the bloody hell must I conform to GIVING FULL DETAILS OF EVERY FUCKING SEX SCENARIO??? *sigh*. Some of my readers just don’t get me yet but in time, I know they surely will.
Now, I don’t normally do this, but since I’m talking about history in the making, allow me address my first hater now……………………
“Dear hater, thank you very much for your ‘Mtscheew’ comment. You try well-well and I’m grateful. Infact, I’m so grateful that I wish you the exact same and lots of similar comments when you start your own blog (that is if your brain will ever be creative enough to make such a bold move). Now, from what I saw, it is quite clear that you were very disappointed with my last post. You feel like I led you on with my powerful post title – ‘She must come by fire, by force’ and got pissed when I refused to describe how I actually made any bitch come. My bad!
Look hoe, it’s not too late to still use that dildo or vibrator of yours. Allow me make up for your disappointment with this story. It’s full of hard-core sex and I’m sure you’ll like it.”……………………………………….
Last week, we (YOU and I) met in a pub and while I was minding my own business, you suddenly walked up to me with stinky breath and cried out “Mr. Pervert, please, I need your help. I have never had an orgasm in my life and that makes me scared. I feel like I am not normal and that scares the shit out of me. I have even tried all kinds and sizes of dicks, dildos and vibrators but all my cumming attempts have been to no avail. Please help me….I beg of you!”
I look you in the eyes like I’m searching them for the truth about the status of your pussy, shake my head in pity, thump my glass of stout hard on my table and bellow – “MR. PERVERT TO THE RESCUE!!!”
Soon, we are in a cab heading to your place. You initially requested that I take you to mine but I declined. My momma would beat the crap out of me if she saw what you looked like. After 15 minutes, we arrive your place and you immediately lead me to your room so we can go ‘straight to business’.
“Kiss me!” you begin by asking with pouted lips. “Hian! If I hear!” I respond. There ain’t no way I could taste your foul-smelling saliva. “Pull your pant joor! No be come you wan come?”
You get disappointed that I choose not to romance your lips but you cooperate anyway because you have no fucking choice. After all, you’re the bloody hoe in need, aren’t you?
As soon as you undress and you’re completely naked, I shake my head again. Nothing just seems right about you. Your face is wack. Your boobies have low self-esteem and your pussy has way too much bush. “Oya lie down” I say and you obey like the obedient bitch that you are.
You hand me a condom and expect me to start fucking you straight away but I have a plan of my own. I first insert one finger into your pussy and try to get you wet. Two fingers go in next and I start fingering you hard. But instead of moaning in pleasure, you’re making the ‘Mtscheew’ sound and I realise your case may be very serious. I then insert the third finger and you still go “Mtscheew”. Soon, the fourth and fifth go in too and since you’re still ‘Mtscheewing’, I become convinced that your pussy may be just too wide for me to actually help you achieve an orgasm.
With all five fingers thrusting deep and fast inside your fat, thick cunt, I ask you “Will you be coming soon” but your response is “No”. I then force my fist all the way up to my elbow inside your loose-ass pussy and it goes in freely. You moan loudly now and squirm in pleasure “Oooh! Awwww.! Yessssss!” but you still admit you won’t be coming anytime soon.
Some precum leaks from your cunt and you ask if I would be inserting my precious, sweet dick inside your wide-as-fuck punani. I tell you “soon” but I know better. I increase the tempo of the fist-fucking but after about 10 minutes you’re still yet to come. All you’re doing now is irritating me by squealing “Oh give it to me! I like the way you’re fucking me! Oh yes! Oh YES!!!”
Because I’m already fed up with your stupid-ass, miserable self, I reach for a big tuber of yam close to a pot under your bed. It is probably what you planned to have for dinner but I couldn’t care any less now. I need to return to the pub to continue my drinking even though I promised to make you come. I have to fulfil that promise despite your third-mainland bridge prototype vagina and your ‘Mtscheewing’. My fist may not be able to do the job but I bet the tuber of yam fucking will. After all, YOU MUST COME BY FIRE, BY FORCE!
THE END
P.S: Please, if there’s anyone…anybody at all out there who is close to TWEET ORACLE, the CEO of auracoolonline.com, I need some help. That fella has been outrageously kind to me and though I’ve thanked him, I strongly feel I haven’t communicated my ‘Thank You’ thoroughly. I do not wish to state all that he’s done for me here but if you truly are close to him, PRETTY PLEASE! try and make him understand that I’m fucking grateful and will always remain loyal and humble towards him. Only you can communicate such a message perfectly because you truly are close to him and he’ll get the depth of my gratitude from you.
God bless you as you help me with this. Thanks!
Monday, September 3, 2012
She Must Come By Fire By Force!!!
Hey, wasup? Doing good huh? Cool. I was woken up this morning by a flatmate who blasted awfully loud music from his car. No beef or anything though. You very well know that I’m deep into music. Besides, I’m quite used to being woken up with loud music in my hostel but I guess this morning was quite different. Why? Because I was taken down memory lane with Tupac Shakur’s ‘Do for love’.
I decided to write this post with the song in mind, not just because I love the joint so much, but more because it reminded me of one hot, sexy celebrity blogger like that. Don’t worry, I’ma give you a brief background on her so you’d understand exactly what I’m talking about.
You see, this lovely celebrity blogger who is some sort of ‘Leader’ and who has a ‘Second’ is definitely a goddess. I found her in the blogosphere a few years ago by accident when I created my first blog entitled ‘Kiss-and-Tell Tales’. Not quite sure why I ended up deleting that but I guess ‘That Bloody Pervert’ is pretty much a perfect replacement.
Anyway, like I said, I found her when I had my first blog and tried to search for sex bloggers that I could follow so that I could learn a thing or two about writing good stories on sex. Google somehow led me straight to her blog with a particular post about anal sex. I must confess that I really relished that story about the opinions and attitudes of people towards that kind of raw, crude sex but was kinda disappointed when she confessed that she had never tried it herself. I was like “Gosh! For real? But anal sex is so, so cooool!”.
After reading that beautiful piece, I hit the ‘Follow-her-posts’ button. Even though I didn’t leave many comments on her blogposts, I made sure to read every subsequent story that featured on her blog. She was like my idol then and I somewhat worshipped her as my goddess of the blogosphere. All that has changed now because my new queen and goddess of the blogosphere is the one and only, blog-famous ‘Rated Erotic’. Mayne, believe me, that chick be a badass when it comes to telling sexual tales. WORD!!!
So, as I was ‘gisting’ you ehn, I kept on reading posts from this ‘Leader’ chick and would you fucking believe me if I told you that she was very instrumental to my getting my first paid job? I’m so fucking serious. She really is an angel. Imagine a celebrity blogger having millions of fans around the globe yet, still makes out time to help a needy fan despite a very busy schedule? By needy I ain’t talking about sex o! Your filthy mind sef! Chai!
I was a needy fan once and I wrote her asking for help in securing a spot at a renowned magazine publishing outfit when she reviewed one of its weekly stories and drew opinions from her readership on the topic. This ‘Leader’ I tell ya was so sweet and kind enough to forward me the name of a senior reporter there and asked me to contact him, saying I was from her. Can you fucking believe that? She didn’t even know me from Adam, yet she was so willing to assist one of her freaking many fans. Trust me, not many celebrities do stuff like that.
To cut the long story short, I eventually got a spot in that outfit after contacting her ‘contact’ and I worked there for a while before my dad threw me back in school. It’s all good though.
Now, the main reason for this particular post is this – While I still followed my former blog goddess, I was touched and saddened by her online confession. She regularly reminded her fans that she had never experienced an orgasm and greatly feared that she would never, ever get to know what being in ‘cloud 9’ really means before passing on to the great beyond. I tried to summon courage many a time to inform her that I could help her achieve that but many a time, I ended up losing my nerve.
“What if she recognised me as the dude she once helped and took offense? What if she got pissed at the thought of me, a mere fan wanting to stick his lowly prick in her celebrated vagina all in the name of trying to make her come? What if she thought that since she’s sampled a good number of cocks in the past, yet failed to cum, my own unknown cock would fail to make a difference?” *Sigh*
I’m still hopeful anyway that this old sex goddess of mine and I will meet someday and I’ll get to make her come. I want this so bad because I realise that a chick who has never experienced an orgasm will remain unenthusiastic about sex. Also, I’m fucking fed up of seeing her stare at crotches in almost all the pictures she’s taken with her male pals. I see her face in those pictures and I instantly read her thoughts – “Gosh! Is this the right dick I’m seeing?”
More importantly though, I wanna help this sweet lady because she was once wonderful to me and it is only proper to return the favour. I wish to prove to her that sex can truly be enjoyed and loved. I wish to change her perception about sex. I want her to have an explosive orgasm before she dies. I WANT HER TO FUCKING CUM!
So my dear ‘Leader’ I know you’re not yet married and I strongly believe you’re gonna get married to the first guy that makes you come. I therefore ask you this in the corrupted lyrics of Tupac’s song……
What you gon’ do?…..do for cum?
You’ve tried many dicks but you’ve not fucked enough
What you gon’ do?.......do for cuuuuuuuumm?
You’ve tried everything? Gurl you ain’t done enough.
I decided to write this post with the song in mind, not just because I love the joint so much, but more because it reminded me of one hot, sexy celebrity blogger like that. Don’t worry, I’ma give you a brief background on her so you’d understand exactly what I’m talking about.
You see, this lovely celebrity blogger who is some sort of ‘Leader’ and who has a ‘Second’ is definitely a goddess. I found her in the blogosphere a few years ago by accident when I created my first blog entitled ‘Kiss-and-Tell Tales’. Not quite sure why I ended up deleting that but I guess ‘That Bloody Pervert’ is pretty much a perfect replacement.
Anyway, like I said, I found her when I had my first blog and tried to search for sex bloggers that I could follow so that I could learn a thing or two about writing good stories on sex. Google somehow led me straight to her blog with a particular post about anal sex. I must confess that I really relished that story about the opinions and attitudes of people towards that kind of raw, crude sex but was kinda disappointed when she confessed that she had never tried it herself. I was like “Gosh! For real? But anal sex is so, so cooool!”.
After reading that beautiful piece, I hit the ‘Follow-her-posts’ button. Even though I didn’t leave many comments on her blogposts, I made sure to read every subsequent story that featured on her blog. She was like my idol then and I somewhat worshipped her as my goddess of the blogosphere. All that has changed now because my new queen and goddess of the blogosphere is the one and only, blog-famous ‘Rated Erotic’. Mayne, believe me, that chick be a badass when it comes to telling sexual tales. WORD!!!
So, as I was ‘gisting’ you ehn, I kept on reading posts from this ‘Leader’ chick and would you fucking believe me if I told you that she was very instrumental to my getting my first paid job? I’m so fucking serious. She really is an angel. Imagine a celebrity blogger having millions of fans around the globe yet, still makes out time to help a needy fan despite a very busy schedule? By needy I ain’t talking about sex o! Your filthy mind sef! Chai!
I was a needy fan once and I wrote her asking for help in securing a spot at a renowned magazine publishing outfit when she reviewed one of its weekly stories and drew opinions from her readership on the topic. This ‘Leader’ I tell ya was so sweet and kind enough to forward me the name of a senior reporter there and asked me to contact him, saying I was from her. Can you fucking believe that? She didn’t even know me from Adam, yet she was so willing to assist one of her freaking many fans. Trust me, not many celebrities do stuff like that.
To cut the long story short, I eventually got a spot in that outfit after contacting her ‘contact’ and I worked there for a while before my dad threw me back in school. It’s all good though.
Now, the main reason for this particular post is this – While I still followed my former blog goddess, I was touched and saddened by her online confession. She regularly reminded her fans that she had never experienced an orgasm and greatly feared that she would never, ever get to know what being in ‘cloud 9’ really means before passing on to the great beyond. I tried to summon courage many a time to inform her that I could help her achieve that but many a time, I ended up losing my nerve.
“What if she recognised me as the dude she once helped and took offense? What if she got pissed at the thought of me, a mere fan wanting to stick his lowly prick in her celebrated vagina all in the name of trying to make her come? What if she thought that since she’s sampled a good number of cocks in the past, yet failed to cum, my own unknown cock would fail to make a difference?” *Sigh*
I’m still hopeful anyway that this old sex goddess of mine and I will meet someday and I’ll get to make her come. I want this so bad because I realise that a chick who has never experienced an orgasm will remain unenthusiastic about sex. Also, I’m fucking fed up of seeing her stare at crotches in almost all the pictures she’s taken with her male pals. I see her face in those pictures and I instantly read her thoughts – “Gosh! Is this the right dick I’m seeing?”
More importantly though, I wanna help this sweet lady because she was once wonderful to me and it is only proper to return the favour. I wish to prove to her that sex can truly be enjoyed and loved. I wish to change her perception about sex. I want her to have an explosive orgasm before she dies. I WANT HER TO FUCKING CUM!
So my dear ‘Leader’ I know you’re not yet married and I strongly believe you’re gonna get married to the first guy that makes you come. I therefore ask you this in the corrupted lyrics of Tupac’s song……
What you gon’ do?…..do for cum?
You’ve tried many dicks but you’ve not fucked enough
What you gon’ do?.......do for cuuuuuuuumm?
You’ve tried everything? Gurl you ain’t done enough.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Just Like M.I, Nobody Test Me !!!
Yaw!!! How’s the weekend going? Not bad huh? Mine hasn’t really been fun ‘cos I’m broke as fuck. I’m still waiting on my pops to send me my pocket money for the month. You know I got my Friday Fuck’s bill to pay right?...lolz. Besides, I miss my dear chilled bottle of stout too...*sad face*
Anyway, I was chatting with some new pals on twitter late last night and when one of ‘em described my favourite tweets as ‘Sick’, it suddenly occurred to me that I could actually share the stories behind some of these ‘sick’ tweets. That way, you could get to understand the state of mind that I was in when I posted them.
Just before I share the first story anyway, I wanna give a MASSIVE, THUNDEROUS shout-out to every single member of my reading audience in the UNITED KINGDOM. From what I gather on the daily, I’m basically writing for you guys. You peeps are simply awesome and I urge you to please pardon the use of Pidgin English in my posts. It’s simply how I give my stories some flavour.
Oh yeah, many thanks to my readers from other countries as well. I appreciate the encouragement. It’s truly not easy achieving over 3,900 page-views in just 30 days. You guys make me feel like a celebrity and best believe I’m fucking blushing right now….lolz
So now……ON WITH THE FIRST STORY. Enjoy!
It was a hot and sunny Wednesday afternoon and while typing away on my laptop, I suddenly felt my tummy rumble. “Fuck!” it was hunger angrily knocking on my belly wall and I quickly consulted my wallet to determine where I would visit to eat (‘cos I fucking hate to cook). “N2,300? Not bad. But should I visit Iya Basira for some good beans with bread in the bricklayer style as usual or head over to KFC for some finger-licking chicken?” I asked myself. I ended up listening to the voice in my head that said “Bros, consider me, your belle nau! Shey na everyday you wan dey fill me up with beans ni? You never tire for all the mess wey your yansh dey blow? Na wa o! Abeg na KFC I want o!”
I left my comfy room and got on a bike which took me straight to the trendy eatery where I ordered chicken and chips with a bottle of Pepsi and sat down hurriedly to relish my rare meal. No sooner had I taken the first bite than a group of school girls rushed in; giggling and chatting away as they passed me by to reach the counter and order for ice-cream.
With one long glance, I took them all in and quickly became amused. They were seven in number and they were all about the same in average height, except for one particular ‘shorty’ amongst them. They all wore the same uniform and carried the same jerry-curl hairstyle and I wasn’t surprised to observe that their tight skirts barely came close to kissing their knees because they all wore lipsticks on their faces and I quickly guessed that they were seniors.
It was even more amusing to discover the irony on these bitches. Except for the ‘shorty’, all of these girls who were about the same in height carried two mangoes on their chests. The ‘shorty’ on her part, bore the burden of breasts the size of pawpaws and I was certain she got that ‘talent’ from her momma. Thankfully though, none of them had a flat backside, courtesy of their fucking tight skirts which clung to their yanshes.
I decided to mind my own business and continue taking care of my tummy so I paid these future hoes no further attention even when they took a table close to mine. I noticed that one of them kept staring at me in uncertainty and tried to get her friends to do the same.
“Pssst…is that not him? Is he not the one?” I heard shorty say in a hush voice. I gave a quick glance in their direction thinking “Na wa o! Whish of una older sister I climb again o???”
After some more murmuring and glance-stealing, one of the girls brought out her mobile phone and pressed its keypad in enthusiasm while the others leaned so fucking close to her like the answer to their incomprehensible question was there. What seemed like 30 seconds passed and I almost dropped my crispy chicken in sheer surprise to eventually hear the hoe with the phone scream “Oh my gosh! It’s him! It’s HIM! It’s THAT BLOODY PERVERT!!!”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin having been ratted out and focused my gaze on them. They stopped licking their ice-cream too and stared back. It then became a staring contest and many thoughts flew into my skull right there and then. “Wait a minute, how were these lil’ bitches able to identify me when I had already changed my blog profile picture? Again, these lil’ hoes were only secondary school students so how did they even come about my blog in the first fucking place? Do they actually read my shit? Fuck! None of them even looks like she is up to 18 and I fucking censor my posts, so are they blind or something to realise my blog isn’t meant for bitches like them? FUCK!!!”
Just as my thoughts ended, one of the girls stood up and the others followed suit. They all began walking towards where I was and since they all still had their ice-cream cones in hand, I wasn’t sure if they wanted to talk to me or mob me using ice-cream cones as their weapons. In any case, I was prepared to slap their faces silly if they tried anything funny.
As soon as they all got right in front of me, the chick who led the march and who I took as their leader began “So you’re That Bloody Pervert right?”. She spoke with a commanding tone and a straight face, placing one arm around her tummy while the other rested on the folded arm and carried her ice-cream. I wondered what she had in mind.
“Yes I am actually. I certainly hope you don’t want an autograph because you young ladies shouldn’t be reading my blog in the first place” I said sternly.
‘Miss leader’ suddenly gave a loud laughter and her crew struggled to join her in the act. “Very funny!” she started again. “First of all, I don’t need one because I am not a fan of yours. Maybe the others though, especially these two here (pointing at shorty and the chick with the phone). They are the ones who go crazy over your old profile picture and your blog. I only join them in reading your stories because they help me masturbate. Secondly, you don’t get to decide whether I read your blog or not. I do what the fuck I want and read what the fuck I want.”
This response got me thinking like “What-Tha-Fuck!!! This bitch here might need some serious thrashing with the way she was addressing me.” I decided to play it cool still….at least till I was sure it was time for my hand to do the talking. “So why are you here then?” I asked.
“Why I’m here?...Why I am actually here?? (sighs and takes a good lick on her ice-cream cone) I am actually here to tell you that even though my gurls think you’re cute and everything, I think otherwise. I came here to tell you again that even though these gurls love reading your posts, I think they are nothing but a worthless bunch of crap. Finally, I came here to tell you that though you claim to be a champion fucker; making gurls cum and errthang in your stories, I think you ain’t shit. Yeah, YOU AIN’T SHIT and despite how good you think you might be at sex, it’s all in your imagination ‘cos anyone of us here can take you on and make you scared of pussy. You ain’t shit mehn! YOU AIN’T SHIT!!!”
“Gosh!” I thought out loud. “What the fuck was I hearing? Did this petty slut just put a question mark on my fucking prowess? Did this little bitch just challenge me by saying anyone of them could take me on and make me runaway from pussy? Even if she had said they would take me on collectively, there was no way they would all survive the killer sex bout that I could put up with them. Did they not know me? Did they not recognise I was That Bloody Pervert???”
I was still racking my brain for an appropriate response while also considering the ‘palm option’ when the girl with the phone chipped in “See, I think you’re cute and everything but she’s right. You really can’t stand any of us. We’re the best sluts in our school and everyone, including the principal knows it. We even stopped fucking the boys in our school because we were fed up of their small dicks. We now fuck Unilag and Laspotech boys and they respect us.”
“Hmmmn”….I thought to myself again. These bitches were obviously doubting the potency of my conCOCKtion as a cure for CUNTcentrated cases of CUMvulsion. They were challenging me….THEY WERE TESTING ME! And that was exactly when it hit me. I suddenly came up with the perfect response in a quite similar, yet corrupt approach which M.I used in his verse of the Choc boiz’ hot single – ‘Nobody Test Me’.
Getting up instantly from my seat, the girls suddenly flinched and each took a step backward. They expected a physical attack but I picked up my empty beverage bottle and held it as a microphone instead. I then began spitting………………..
Now I got advice for all’ya lil' pussies coughing up tough shit.
Don't test me simply ‘cos y'all hump university bros…. Bitches, I'ma PRICK!
First pussy wey go try me....dat pussy go hot first.
Make the others join in...make we start the fuck-fest
Look, there is no contest. Have you seen my Penis?
Only one round and una go shout “Yeh! Chairman, abeg PLEASE”
So y’all fucking need to recognise and respect me, not vex or upset me
Now, I'll stick with ma experienced bitches…. You can call them 'old hands'.
Una breasts cheap like garri…..but i no go soak am
When una pussy blow like ganja...maybe i go smoke am.
Oh yes! Una get one smallie with big chest...Dat one, I fit POKE am!
But why would I even bother?...give y’all cheap promotion
I think your cunts are so dry…don’t bother using lotion
I’ll leave you here now…but I’ma let y’all know that
My game is so fucking madt….that’s why I’m called That Bloody Pervert!!!
With that, I left them with shocked faces and gaping mouths as I quietly strolled out of the eatery, whilst singing and heading back to the hostel…………………….
They try to prove me wrong but I’m topping my game
To all them lil’ pussies who now think we’re the same
Nobody test me…test me…..TEST ME
I’m screaming nobody test me….test me…..TEST ME
They’re so fucking lucky I didn’t catch them in a corner
I’d have retired their cunts early and done that with my boner
Bitches, nobody test me…test me….TEST ME
I’M SCREAMING NOBODY TEST ME…TEST ME….TEST ME!!!
As I crossed the road, I glanced back and sighted ‘Shorty’ dashing after me. “Wait!...please wait! Lemme come with you!” she shouted. I stopped and grinned………….*wink*
THE END
Anyway, I was chatting with some new pals on twitter late last night and when one of ‘em described my favourite tweets as ‘Sick’, it suddenly occurred to me that I could actually share the stories behind some of these ‘sick’ tweets. That way, you could get to understand the state of mind that I was in when I posted them.
Just before I share the first story anyway, I wanna give a MASSIVE, THUNDEROUS shout-out to every single member of my reading audience in the UNITED KINGDOM. From what I gather on the daily, I’m basically writing for you guys. You peeps are simply awesome and I urge you to please pardon the use of Pidgin English in my posts. It’s simply how I give my stories some flavour.
Oh yeah, many thanks to my readers from other countries as well. I appreciate the encouragement. It’s truly not easy achieving over 3,900 page-views in just 30 days. You guys make me feel like a celebrity and best believe I’m fucking blushing right now….lolz
So now……ON WITH THE FIRST STORY. Enjoy!
It was a hot and sunny Wednesday afternoon and while typing away on my laptop, I suddenly felt my tummy rumble. “Fuck!” it was hunger angrily knocking on my belly wall and I quickly consulted my wallet to determine where I would visit to eat (‘cos I fucking hate to cook). “N2,300? Not bad. But should I visit Iya Basira for some good beans with bread in the bricklayer style as usual or head over to KFC for some finger-licking chicken?” I asked myself. I ended up listening to the voice in my head that said “Bros, consider me, your belle nau! Shey na everyday you wan dey fill me up with beans ni? You never tire for all the mess wey your yansh dey blow? Na wa o! Abeg na KFC I want o!”
I left my comfy room and got on a bike which took me straight to the trendy eatery where I ordered chicken and chips with a bottle of Pepsi and sat down hurriedly to relish my rare meal. No sooner had I taken the first bite than a group of school girls rushed in; giggling and chatting away as they passed me by to reach the counter and order for ice-cream.
With one long glance, I took them all in and quickly became amused. They were seven in number and they were all about the same in average height, except for one particular ‘shorty’ amongst them. They all wore the same uniform and carried the same jerry-curl hairstyle and I wasn’t surprised to observe that their tight skirts barely came close to kissing their knees because they all wore lipsticks on their faces and I quickly guessed that they were seniors.
It was even more amusing to discover the irony on these bitches. Except for the ‘shorty’, all of these girls who were about the same in height carried two mangoes on their chests. The ‘shorty’ on her part, bore the burden of breasts the size of pawpaws and I was certain she got that ‘talent’ from her momma. Thankfully though, none of them had a flat backside, courtesy of their fucking tight skirts which clung to their yanshes.
I decided to mind my own business and continue taking care of my tummy so I paid these future hoes no further attention even when they took a table close to mine. I noticed that one of them kept staring at me in uncertainty and tried to get her friends to do the same.
“Pssst…is that not him? Is he not the one?” I heard shorty say in a hush voice. I gave a quick glance in their direction thinking “Na wa o! Whish of una older sister I climb again o???”
After some more murmuring and glance-stealing, one of the girls brought out her mobile phone and pressed its keypad in enthusiasm while the others leaned so fucking close to her like the answer to their incomprehensible question was there. What seemed like 30 seconds passed and I almost dropped my crispy chicken in sheer surprise to eventually hear the hoe with the phone scream “Oh my gosh! It’s him! It’s HIM! It’s THAT BLOODY PERVERT!!!”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin having been ratted out and focused my gaze on them. They stopped licking their ice-cream too and stared back. It then became a staring contest and many thoughts flew into my skull right there and then. “Wait a minute, how were these lil’ bitches able to identify me when I had already changed my blog profile picture? Again, these lil’ hoes were only secondary school students so how did they even come about my blog in the first fucking place? Do they actually read my shit? Fuck! None of them even looks like she is up to 18 and I fucking censor my posts, so are they blind or something to realise my blog isn’t meant for bitches like them? FUCK!!!”
Just as my thoughts ended, one of the girls stood up and the others followed suit. They all began walking towards where I was and since they all still had their ice-cream cones in hand, I wasn’t sure if they wanted to talk to me or mob me using ice-cream cones as their weapons. In any case, I was prepared to slap their faces silly if they tried anything funny.
As soon as they all got right in front of me, the chick who led the march and who I took as their leader began “So you’re That Bloody Pervert right?”. She spoke with a commanding tone and a straight face, placing one arm around her tummy while the other rested on the folded arm and carried her ice-cream. I wondered what she had in mind.
“Yes I am actually. I certainly hope you don’t want an autograph because you young ladies shouldn’t be reading my blog in the first place” I said sternly.
‘Miss leader’ suddenly gave a loud laughter and her crew struggled to join her in the act. “Very funny!” she started again. “First of all, I don’t need one because I am not a fan of yours. Maybe the others though, especially these two here (pointing at shorty and the chick with the phone). They are the ones who go crazy over your old profile picture and your blog. I only join them in reading your stories because they help me masturbate. Secondly, you don’t get to decide whether I read your blog or not. I do what the fuck I want and read what the fuck I want.”
This response got me thinking like “What-Tha-Fuck!!! This bitch here might need some serious thrashing with the way she was addressing me.” I decided to play it cool still….at least till I was sure it was time for my hand to do the talking. “So why are you here then?” I asked.
“Why I’m here?...Why I am actually here?? (sighs and takes a good lick on her ice-cream cone) I am actually here to tell you that even though my gurls think you’re cute and everything, I think otherwise. I came here to tell you again that even though these gurls love reading your posts, I think they are nothing but a worthless bunch of crap. Finally, I came here to tell you that though you claim to be a champion fucker; making gurls cum and errthang in your stories, I think you ain’t shit. Yeah, YOU AIN’T SHIT and despite how good you think you might be at sex, it’s all in your imagination ‘cos anyone of us here can take you on and make you scared of pussy. You ain’t shit mehn! YOU AIN’T SHIT!!!”
“Gosh!” I thought out loud. “What the fuck was I hearing? Did this petty slut just put a question mark on my fucking prowess? Did this little bitch just challenge me by saying anyone of them could take me on and make me runaway from pussy? Even if she had said they would take me on collectively, there was no way they would all survive the killer sex bout that I could put up with them. Did they not know me? Did they not recognise I was That Bloody Pervert???”
I was still racking my brain for an appropriate response while also considering the ‘palm option’ when the girl with the phone chipped in “See, I think you’re cute and everything but she’s right. You really can’t stand any of us. We’re the best sluts in our school and everyone, including the principal knows it. We even stopped fucking the boys in our school because we were fed up of their small dicks. We now fuck Unilag and Laspotech boys and they respect us.”
“Hmmmn”….I thought to myself again. These bitches were obviously doubting the potency of my conCOCKtion as a cure for CUNTcentrated cases of CUMvulsion. They were challenging me….THEY WERE TESTING ME! And that was exactly when it hit me. I suddenly came up with the perfect response in a quite similar, yet corrupt approach which M.I used in his verse of the Choc boiz’ hot single – ‘Nobody Test Me’.
Getting up instantly from my seat, the girls suddenly flinched and each took a step backward. They expected a physical attack but I picked up my empty beverage bottle and held it as a microphone instead. I then began spitting………………..
Now I got advice for all’ya lil' pussies coughing up tough shit.
Don't test me simply ‘cos y'all hump university bros…. Bitches, I'ma PRICK!
First pussy wey go try me....dat pussy go hot first.
Make the others join in...make we start the fuck-fest
Look, there is no contest. Have you seen my Penis?
Only one round and una go shout “Yeh! Chairman, abeg PLEASE”
So y’all fucking need to recognise and respect me, not vex or upset me
Now, I'll stick with ma experienced bitches…. You can call them 'old hands'.
Una breasts cheap like garri…..but i no go soak am
When una pussy blow like ganja...maybe i go smoke am.
Oh yes! Una get one smallie with big chest...Dat one, I fit POKE am!
But why would I even bother?...give y’all cheap promotion
I think your cunts are so dry…don’t bother using lotion
I’ll leave you here now…but I’ma let y’all know that
My game is so fucking madt….that’s why I’m called That Bloody Pervert!!!
With that, I left them with shocked faces and gaping mouths as I quietly strolled out of the eatery, whilst singing and heading back to the hostel…………………….
They try to prove me wrong but I’m topping my game
To all them lil’ pussies who now think we’re the same
Nobody test me…test me…..TEST ME
I’m screaming nobody test me….test me…..TEST ME
They’re so fucking lucky I didn’t catch them in a corner
I’d have retired their cunts early and done that with my boner
Bitches, nobody test me…test me….TEST ME
I’M SCREAMING NOBODY TEST ME…TEST ME….TEST ME!!!
As I crossed the road, I glanced back and sighted ‘Shorty’ dashing after me. “Wait!...please wait! Lemme come with you!” she shouted. I stopped and grinned………….*wink*
THE END
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