Every day I clock in and work 9-5 calling girls sluts online. All the words on this blog (whether captions or text) are mine, hit me up if you want to talk about any of them.
Discord: TestJump
You watched all his videos in the dead of night, while your girlfriend slept. The vile, homophobic monster with the rough voice and the twisted brain. Every week, a new girl came on. Sat in front of the camera, told her life story. How she grew up, how she discovered her sexuality, what relationships she'd had. Whether she'd ever been with a man before realising she was gay, or whether she still had her gold star. Then he'd hand her a fistful of bills - a lot of money, but never enough to justify what was about to happen - and she'd sign her contract right there on camera.
The moment pen left paper she was dragged out of her chair by his strong, masculine hands and her destruction began. Every week was the most brutal, degrading, ego-erasing porn you'd ever seen. The girls were fucked roughly in every hole - obviously, but everything surrounding the sex was worse. They left with bloodshot eyes from being waterboarded with his piss, skin burned from vigorous, frequent and prolonged application of a high-voltage cattleprod, throat bruised from crushing fingers and abrasive nooses. You hated yourself for it, tried not to think about it when you weren't hunched over your phone in the bathroom at 2AM, but nothing made you cum harder than watching other lesbians being utterly ruined.
It wasn't until you saw him that you knew he actually lived in your city. You recognised him instantly. Sure, his face was never front-and-centre in the videos, but whenever it appeared on camera you studied him, cunt throbbing as you studied his impassive, uncaring mask or hungry, predatorial snarl. Within seconds of seeing him, you knew what he was doing. Why else would a man likethatbe in a fucking gay bar.
"You disgusting, vile prick!" You screamed, storming over. People turned, but no one really cared. The music was too loud and the bar too packed.
"What's your problem?" He replied, eyebrow raised, playing the innocent.
"You know what my fucking problem is! You're HERE," you gestured around, at girls dancing with their girlfriends, at lesbians looking for otherlesbians, not to be objectified and degraded by this piece of shit, "looking for girls for your - for your -" You couldn't even find the words.
"And why do youknow who I am?" His tone was smug. Fuck. Your girlfriend was standing at your shoulder.
"Uh - my friends...they showed me..." Even as you said it, you knew the excuse made no sense.
"Babe, who is this guy?" Your girlfriend chimed in, looking warily at the wiry, lean man looming over the pair of you.
"He makes porn, horrible porn, with lesbians, where he fucks them!" You blurted out in a rush, trying to explain why he shouldn't be here. It immediately became apparent that your girlfriend wasn't so focused on that part.
"Which friends showed you that shit??" She almost shouted. She knew all your friends. You couldn't lie. You stammered, twisted, wished you could sink into the floor.
"Well, I guess I'll go get a first hand experience of these videos you've been watching!" Your girlfriend was building herself into a fury. Obviously she was bluffing, but you couldn't think of how to calm her down.
So you watched, a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as your girlfriend walked out of the club on that homophobe bastard's arm. You went home shortly after. You tried to call her that night. The next day. Fifty times a day for the rest of the week. She'd blocked your number.
Finally, the weekend came, and you spent your whole Saturday eagerly refreshing that website, a full feed of videos which usually made your greedy hole drip and your mind fog over ignored as you waited foronenew upload. And then it came. The video that would, for the rest of your life, be your favourite porn. Your girlfriend telling the camera about her life, about how she was hear to get revenge on your disgusting, degenerate girlfriend for watching these depraved videos without telling her. Your girlfriend signing the contract without reading it.
Her dawning horror, and abject terror, as what she expected to be a fairly vanilla 'lesbian taking dick' video descended into pure suffering. He gave her opportunities at every turn to escape the worst of the torture by talking shit about you, listing your failure and insecurities, calling you a retarded fake dyke. Your girlfriend took every one. Still, she was subjected to pure filth and brutal fucking. Your favourite scene would forever remain the end. Squatting in a pool of her own filth, freshly shaved cunt on display, tacky rainbow clothes stained in vile juices, the dick raping her throat pulling out so the man who'd taken her from you could ask if she had any final messages for her girlfriend. Her voice, hoarse from cock and screaming, croaking out a final 'fuck you'.
"Babe, you're fucking dumped. Do us real dykes a favour and get fucking raped to death by men."
You wondered if she ever realised the bitter irony - that you'd never taken a dick in her life, while she'd spent the five hours leading up to that statement taking one in every hole.
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You watched all his videos in the dead of night, while your girlfriend slept. The vile, homophobic monster with the rough voice and the twisted brain. Every week, a new girl came on. Sat in front of the camera, told her life story. How she grew up, how she discovered her sexuality, what relationships she'd had. Whether she'd ever been with a man before realising she was gay, or whether she still had her gold star. Then he'd hand her a fistful of bills - a lot of money, but never enough to justify what was about to happen - and she'd sign her contract right there on camera.
The moment pen left paper she was dragged out of her chair by his strong, masculine hands and her destruction began. Every week was the most brutal, degrading, ego-erasing porn you'd ever seen. The girls were fucked roughly in every hole - obviously, but everything surrounding the sex was worse. They left with bloodshot eyes from being waterboarded with his piss, skin burned from vigorous, frequent and prolonged application of a high-voltage cattleprod, throat bruised from crushing fingers and abrasive nooses. You hated yourself for it, tried not to think about it when you weren't hunched over your phone in the bathroom at 2AM, but nothing made you cum harder than watching other lesbians being utterly ruined.
It wasn't until you saw him that you knew he actually lived in your city. You recognised him instantly. Sure, his face was never front-and-centre in the videos, but whenever it appeared on camera you studied him, cunt throbbing as you studied his impassive, uncaring mask or hungry, predatorial snarl. Within seconds of seeing him, you knew what he was doing. Why else would a man like that be in a fucking gay bar.
"You disgusting, vile prick!" You screamed, storming over. People turned, but no one really cared. The music was too loud and the bar too packed.
"What's your problem?" He replied, eyebrow raised, playing the innocent.
"You know what my fucking problem is! You're HERE," you gestured around, at girls dancing with their girlfriends, at lesbians looking for other lesbians, not to be objectified and degraded by this piece of shit, "looking for girls for your - for your -" You couldn't even find the words.
"And why do you know who I am?" His tone was smug. Fuck. Your girlfriend was standing at your shoulder.
"Uh - my friends...they showed me..." Even as you said it, you knew the excuse made no sense.
"Babe, who is this guy?" Your girlfriend chimed in, looking warily at the wiry, lean man looming over the pair of you.
"He makes porn, horrible porn, with lesbians, where he fucks them!" You blurted out in a rush, trying to explain why he shouldn't be here. It immediately became apparent that your girlfriend wasn't so focused on that part.
"Which friends showed you that shit??" She almost shouted. She knew all your friends. You couldn't lie. You stammered, twisted, wished you could sink into the floor.
"Well, I guess I'll go get a first hand experience of these videos you've been watching!" Your girlfriend was building herself into a fury. Obviously she was bluffing, but you couldn't think of how to calm her down.
So you watched, a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as your girlfriend walked out of the club on that homophobe bastard's arm. You went home shortly after. You tried to call her that night. The next day. Fifty times a day for the rest of the week. She'd blocked your number.
Finally, the weekend came, and you spent your whole Saturday eagerly refreshing that website, a full feed of videos which usually made your greedy hole drip and your mind fog over ignored as you waited for one new upload. And then it came. The video that would, for the rest of your life, be your favourite porn. Your girlfriend telling the camera about her life, about how she was hear to get revenge on your disgusting, degenerate girlfriend for watching these depraved videos without telling her. Your girlfriend signing the contract without reading it.
Her dawning horror, and abject terror, as what she expected to be a fairly vanilla 'lesbian taking dick' video descended into pure suffering. He gave her opportunities at every turn to escape the worst of the torture by talking shit about you, listing your failure and insecurities, calling you a retarded fake dyke. Your girlfriend took every one. Still, she was subjected to pure filth and brutal fucking. Your favourite scene would forever remain the end. Squatting in a pool of her own filth, freshly shaved cunt on display, tacky rainbow clothes stained in vile juices, the dick raping her throat pulling out so the man who'd taken her from you could ask if she had any final messages for her girlfriend. Her voice, hoarse from cock and screaming, croaking out a final 'fuck you'.
"Babe, you're fucking dumped. Do us real dykes a favour and get fucking raped to death by men."
You wondered if she ever realised the bitter irony - that you'd never taken a dick in her life, while she'd spent the five hours leading up to that statement taking one in every hole.