Читать книгу SKANKS - Keaton Albertson - Страница 2

I consider myself a Cosmopolitan man. When it comes to females, I have visited the pubic regions of every racial group from all of the major land masses on the globe. And I’ve conquered them all with my powerful womb wrecker. I do not discriminate against the shade of any flesh, just so long as it’s soft, supple, and decorated with sizeable areolas or wrapped around a plump, heart-shaped pooper. My only criterion for denying a woman of my male endowment is her excess volume of body fat. I used to carry around with me a standing scale and tape measure everywhere that I prowled. If a sultry hoochie met a certain height and weight requirement, I would allow her to have sex with me. Now that I’m older and much wiser, I have acquired a pretty good eye for the appropriate dimensions of a sexy body and I no longer need calibration instruments. But I’m still a firm believer in the credo that the only way of making six pounds of fat look yummy is to put a nipple on it.

As man whore of my own making, I do not enjoy listening to the mistruths and exaggerated locker room stories of other men’s sexual escapades. But I do enjoy hearing myself talk. And I certainly do relish in my personal tales of debauchery. Furthermore, I feel that my sexual triumphs and dating ordeals are far too entertaining to keep to myself. Thus, I chose to share a few of my most memorable interactions with skanks that took place during my development as a mass muff murderer. To better circulate my chronicles, I have preserved them through the written word for the sake of posterity.

It is my only hope that a younger generation might take the words that I have written here into their hearts and contemplate upon their own lack of swagger. Using my stories as a catalyst of promiscuity, perhaps then will my pimping legacy go on, carried forth by a new brood of male sluts who are seeking to spread their own tainted seed.