Tuesday, March 07, 2006

For All Those Who Don't Know Me

Here, is this what you wanted? Did you want me to seem just like you? Another robot writting about a life that no one else has, that no one else can keep up with but yet write about it any how just so it don't build up in my mind? Do you like it better when i write like this?

Robots are what you all are. Following commands by the goverment. Have you noticed that in the Constitution it says our fair land that we share is free, yet we cannot be how we want. We cannot live our lives the way we want it to be. We can't believe in what we want. There is a right that says we are protected by our own beliefs, yet we are fratinized by what we believe in by every other person in the country. Whether you be Atheist or Satanic. These two religions are saw upon as evil and against all man. When really it's a religion about practicing your own faith and going about life the way you want to live it. Have you ever thought that what is god. How can he be greater than me? What did he do to make him so great?

You all are ragging me about what i do. When really look at what you are doing. You are looking down upon me for what? For being in love? For not writting like you do? Thats discrimination. If you have read what your suppose to in school you would have learned about this. This is a serious offense in our great country. For we like to hold trials for this. As me myself i would not go that far. I do not have the heart to really be mean to anyone. If you would know me, you would know that. For as you do not know me, you do not know that. Till that you take the time to read over what i just typed on here. Then when you've seen where i am coming from maybe then there would be a reason for leaving a comment on my page.

I am not the richest kid on earth. Yes, I am in high school but that does not mean i'm a complete adolesence. I've went through more in my life now then you will probably go through in the next 50 years. For many do not take the time to get to know me before they judge me. That is why i put the "I'm not emo" title at the top of my blog page. Many people make the mistake in thinking i am emo. The way i dress maybe is a reason, or maybe tis the music i listen to. Still i do not want to be labeled. I am i, myself, no one more. Thanks for your time.

I love you Sydney, i hope you had a great day at school baby!

12 Fuck Yous:

Anonymous The Grammar Nazi said...

Dear Andy,

Please consider donating your life in the name of science. You may be the missing link between humans and apes. I understand that you're not "a complete adolesence," and this is your chance to prove it.

Love, Santa

P.S. Having your penis tucked in, as you put it, is called a vagina. A penis is supposed to stick out. But I suppose "Special Education" still qualifies as a type of education.

Wed Mar 08, 04:23:00 AM  
Blogger Butchieboy said...

Dude- Your fucking problem have no skills. Not Napoleon Dynamite skills...LIFE skills. Like spelling & shit. Learn 2 Spell...dude. Stop misspelling shit intenntionally!

Wed Mar 08, 05:08:00 AM  
Blogger Butchieboy said...


Wed Mar 08, 05:09:00 AM  
Blogger Butchieboy said...

dont B ghey

Wed Mar 08, 05:09:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My parents had taken my brother to the city of Chico for the day. I had pretended to be sick. I was still in bed when the trickling started. It sounded like someone had opened up a tap in a firehose. I went to the living room window to investigate.

Doug was outside, pissing in the yard.

I was flabbergasted. Here was this man, my neighbor: fat, bearded, hairy, who had just last week told my dad "I need a fuckin blowjob, man", to which my dad had said "you stay the fuck away from my son." Already I had washed this man's Ben Davis slacks in my machine. The inner thigh had pearly splooey dribbled all over it.

Yeah, he was a filthy mess. I thought he was "gross." Just another dipshit lookin' for poontang, and sometimes, like the proverbial blind squirrel sussing out a nut, finding it.

Yet here was the man's cock. Fat and sweet, just flopping there like a fire hose, piss streaming out of it onto the gravel. An organ of fucking beauty if I've ever seen one.

Okay. I'm 15 -- Pinko, Ray, the bearded, fat lumberjackoff you guys know has yet to become reality. I'm just a smooth fuckin' twink. A callow little shit. Doug is 32, a talented mechanic, good with his fingers. It's summer, and he favors shirtlessness. He smells like armpits and Quaker State. He's in good, toned shape, save for his beer-belly. He's bearded, the way you guys have seen me. More important, he knows how to work it. When he's pissed somebody off, or has said something untoward, he flashes a grin, those straight, blindingly white, Germanic-Irish teeth shining sweetly, playfully, through a thick, reddish-brown beard, and everything is okay. It's all just fine.

He's a fuckin' Adonis.

Today I have much greater appreciation for the powers of his youth. Doug knew how to work it.

He continued to piss, and then, strangely, looked towards the screened-in window. As if by sixth sense, he knew I was staring at his fat appendage. He made his way towards the house...

"BANG BANG BANG" he went at the doublewide trailer door. I was petrified. Should I pretend not to be home? I was 15, and already I had a sexual predator, a man I know, his fat dick popped out of his dolphin shorts, pounding at my door. I was almost a pussy about the whole deal. Almost.

I opened the door. "Hey Doug, what's up?"

"Not much." He flashed that winning smile at me. "What about you? You get an eyeful?"

I stood stock-still. I had to play this right. I was scared witless, yet I was horny as all fuckin' get out. Teenage hormones, yeah? Imagine, my heterosexual gentleman readers, if you will, a hot, topless 17 year-old (Lindsay Lohanesque, okay?) pounding at your door, who so clearly wants your searing fat rod slipped into her. That's sort of what I was goin' through.

Only this man wanted to lay the pipe in yours truly. Or at least, in any convenient, tight, warm, wet hole. "Hey Doug," I said, so nervous you could have etched glass with my fingernails. "Come on in."

He gave his trademark white, "evil fucker" grin through that kick-ass beard of his. My asshole was seriously fucking tingling at this point. I knew what I wanted, and I knew what was coming.

I looked him dead in his pretty brown eyes. "Seriously though, you askin'?"

"I ain't askin'. I'm tellin'."

"Well then shit mutherfucker pull down them ugly fuckin' shorts, man, and sit your ass down on the couch." Cheesy, I know, but you have no fuckin' clue how hard and nervous I was at this point.

He exhaled deeply, gave a moue of assent, nodded his head, his thick beard smooshing against his hairy, narrow. muscular chest, and just shoved his shorts down. His dick, already tumescent, bounced against his hairy belly and came to rest pointing exactly at my line of sight. I was struck by how oddly graceful yet clumsy it appeared. I was touched, and in fact, moved..

I got on my knees, and took it in hand.

It was big. The man was half a head shorter than I am, and clearly filled with unwarranted bluster. But his dick was easily eight and a half inches long -- tanned, uncut, and thick as a beer can.

"I appreciate it man. I needed some pussy, but it wasn't forthcoming. Thanks for filling in, dude."

He seriously fucking said that. Just like a porno novel. Meanwhile, I was gripping the base of his dick with forefinger and thumb, staring that huge, fat, piss-stinking slit-eye in the face. I mean, I'd put myself down for it, but privately, I was worried. This shit was huge. How was I not going to gag?

I started small, working the flaring, robust dickhead, massaging it with my tongue and upper lip.

"Oh holy fuck," he let out in guttural tones. This is about the moment when I figured out that girls aren't naturally good at blow-jobs, and in fact need to be trained.

Boys, however, are. Empathy and awareness colored every lick, every stroke. I got adventurous. I pulled it down farther. At one point, the tip of his glans hit the back of my throat; his balls banged my chin. I almost gagged, but I got my shit under control.

He noticed the effort I was putting in. "Goddamn boy, you are good. I really apprec-- OH FUCK YEAH! -- I appreciate it. Thank you."

I kept stroking him with my throat, too scared to speak up, too afraid I'd ruin a 15 year-old faggot's greatest dream if I let loose with my typical, gravelly tones. What he needed right now, I thought, was to lean his head back, close his eyes, and pretend a 15 year-old girl was working his sweet shaft.

He dragged a calloused, greasy, gnarled, conciliatory hand along my jawline.

"Hey man, it's okay, I'm not gonna pop you for suckin' me or nothin'..." His voice was all sweet, all smiles.

"I just wanna check out your hole is all." He runs his thick, horned, index finger down my ass crack.

He giggles a bit. "Hey man, you're kinda tight. Mind if I break you in with some crisco?"

I am of course scared shitless. But I've already experimented, during my masturbatory sessions, with sticking stuff up my ass, and I've already learned to appreciate the power of the prostate gland.

"It's above the stove," I say, fighting to maintain my nonchalance.

He stares me down, mouth open, and then nods. "You know, if you're cool with it, I want to take you in the shower."

"Yeah, okay."

I head for the bathroom and start the hot water. He clearly can't wait. As I'm massaging myself in the stream of hot water, Doug's pointing a wad of vegetable shortening at me, and then poking it at my butt. He sticks his thick middle finger up my ass. It burns, but I take it.

Then he greases up his pole. I watch him, watch him pull back the filthy foreskin and grease up the soft head, then the thick shaft, of his big dick. He sneers senselessly as he does so. Then he takes two steps forward. Meanwhile, I'm "presenting" like I'm one of them chimp bitches in the national fuckin' geographic. He somehow squeezes the fat head of his dick into my asshole.

God it fuckin' burns.

But I ain't sayin shit. He turns me on, and I want him balls-deep, and I ain't gonna let anything get in the way of that.

Goddamn he's fuckin' thick. Goddamn it hurts.

He starts moaning like a fucking pussy. He groans and throws his head back as he penetrates me. His fat belly smashes against the small of my back. The front of his low-hanging balls smack against the back of mine. I start gettin' hard. He, manliness notwithstanding, grips the shaft of my dick, and starts jerking me. Pulls my foreskin back so fast it practically fucking rips.

That's when it hits me. Like a fuckin' freight train: I'm gettin' fucked real good. The man knows how to lay some mutherfuckin' pipe. I get it. I really do.

The big fat spongey head of his hard dick hits my prostate, and keeps punchin' it. Yeah, I'm lettin' him fuck me raw. Why? Well fuck, I don't know. I'm 15 and stupid and listenin' to Blondie and Joe Strummer and I'm a stupid badass and don't give a shit about nothin'. And then comes the definition of beauty: He screams, whines, and whimpers. His dick pulses in my ass, throbs and fucking pulses, until... He lets loose a howl, and rests the side of his sweet, bearded face against my back. He lets loose a thick fucking geyser of lava in my open ass. He sprays his baby-batter all over my gut. God it feels good.

And then he kisses me. Full on, on the mouth. He sticks his tongue down my fuckin' throat. It's sweet. It's kind. He tastes like cigarillos.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the moment I lost my virginity.

God that stupid piece of grease-monkey shit was a good kisser.

You know, I saw him recently, in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He looked at me, gave me that trademark grin, and shook his head, and that trademark beard (now gray, and much longer) shook. Goddamn. He's still hot as fuck.

And I'd still do him. He's still a pretty boy.

posted by teh l4m3 @ 2:07 PM 11 comments

Wed Mar 08, 05:17:00 AM  
Blogger George Larson said...

You seriously thought that if you hit the shift key once in a while, it would be shocking?

My lord. Some of the times he used the word "I", he did it with a capital letter. That there's a thinker!

You still can't spell.

You're a run-of-the-mill angsty teen who writes squishy mooshy poetry and gushes about girlfriend constantly.

You are emo.

Wed Mar 08, 09:04:00 AM  
Anonymous Enigmatic said...

yooo r stoooooooooopid

Wed Mar 08, 09:20:00 AM  
Blogger George Larson said...

I see you moved out of Heartbreak! *sniff* and into Hell's Deepest Pit.

I trust by deep you are referring to phsyical measure.

Wed Mar 08, 09:32:00 AM  
Blogger TheHamburger said...

George; you're a class act! Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Why do you think you're being smart by saying you aren't trying to be like us 'robots'? If by 'robot' you mean not retarded, you're right. My guess is that you're the dumbass Goth kid everybody at school hates and you make up shit to get pity on the Internet...I bet you don't even have a girlfriend and are really just some prison bitch in Arkansas. Honestly, take off your Marilyn Manson t-shirt, remove all the piercings and baggy jeans and try to a little less predictable with all the dumb shit you keep saying.

You need to pay more attention in your English classes or you'll end up being in high school longer than Butchie keeps fingering your Mom's anus...which won't ever end.

Wed Mar 08, 12:35:00 PM  
Blogger John Q. Public esq. said...

I believe in you Andy.
Don’t hide your light under a bushel, but show it for the entire world to see.
The only power others have is the power you give them.
March to the beat of your own drummer.
Live each day to its fullest.
It’s not the mountains ahead the wear you out it’s the pebble in your shoe.
Use the force.
Read some ee cummings
That is all.


Wed Mar 08, 01:48:00 PM  
Anonymous Mr. Temo said...

He's not goth, he is Emo.

Emo pitties the fool that doesn't know the difference.

Wed Mar 08, 02:40:00 PM  
Blogger George Larson said...

Does the word pwnd mean anything to you?

I thought that it was spelled poorly enough that you might understand it.

Wed Mar 08, 03:03:00 PM  

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