Man, Hoe! 

Friend’s. Oh, my dear, dear, friends. I’m so very psyched to see that y’all haven’t given up on me… Yet. I’m sure you’re probably wondering what fresh load of shit I’ll be shoveling up for your entertainment this morning.

Y’all should be so ashamed of yourselves. Soon, you’ll have everyone thinkin, I just wake up all ornary and hateful-like, everyday.  My favorite pastime, possibly,  just pointing judgemental fingers at anyone that happens to cross my path.  

Really?  All that before I’ve even had the chance to finish my very first cup of coffee for the day?? 

Oh, cum on… Anyone who truly knows me, would know automatically… I don’t do shit BEFORE my very first cup of joe for the day. As a matter of fact, it’s only after the first, sometimes, even, well into that second steaming cup, before reality actually kicks in for me at all.

But, hey. No worries, people. Immediately after waking this morning, I , just, went on and consumed all the caffeine necessary for me to get these curves a-movin, in acticipation of finding a little personal time to spend with all of you. What a thoughtful lil’ whore. Right? (Awww. Am I blushing?)

Perhaps some of you may have noticed that I don’t write anywhere near as much as i used to. In fact, I haven’t shared a post on here in, what seems like, forever. Jeez! Has it really been that long?? Wow.  Yes. YES, It has.

Have y’all pondered my absence and wondered whose company I might have been in? Or, rather, it’s much more likely that you were trying to guess whose company just might have BEEN IN ME…

No. No. Of course, not. I know that y’all aren’t like that. For fear that it might make me uncomfortable, you would never even think to inquire as to any of the personal details about my frequent sex-capades and bj’s, aplenty.

But, then, you never had to. Did you?? Telling people what I think and how I feel has certainly NEVER been a problem for me. Or, hadn’t anyone noticed? To be quite honest, it’s all perfectly therapeutic, and, in my personal opinion, just part of a well-balanced lifestyle.

As is sex. And, I, certainly, don’t have an issue there, either. Despite the fact that I have slowly increased in popularity, I, still, only book the same amount of dates. You see, there isn’t enough money in the world for me to let y’all wear my dearest, Greedy, out to the point that I am unable to use it when I’m alone and feeling frisky, myself.

Actually, I’m kinda amazed that y’all can’t hear the incessant buzzing, now, cummin from so close by. Recently, I purchased a little pink wand to add to my toy chest. It’s fleshy texture is, absolutely, delightful, but, more importantly… 

This little booger, here, is so very powerful. Lemme tell ya. My gaze drifts, slowly, down to the small pink vibrator, enveloped securely between my delicate nether lips.  I’ve gotta admit, pink is DEFINITELY my color. 

Wait. Now, that I think about it, the last time, I was able to sit down for a few moments to make an attempt at blogging something new for y’all, the new Mr. Pink was in the exact same spot, humming like the mother fucker, he truly is. Funny thing is,  I can’t remember what it was I was, actually, writing about. 

Damn, that Greedy! What a cunt! What a selfish cunt. Hell! What a cunningly, selfish cunt. Ahh! (I, just, kill me!)

So, I had this date. He arrives, all fresh-faced, confident, and YOUNG AS FUCK! 24, to be exact. But, oh, my God! This man may have been young, but he was, also, INSANELY DELICIOUS, to be sure. 

Most providers refuse to even see anyone under the age of 30. Laney lixx AKA Ms. Masterhead69 DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE. NO WAY.  NO DAY.  NO HOW.  ALL MEN need love. Both, the mature and the inexperienced.

I have always prided myself on being able to hold a conversation with, just about, anyone. Anywhere. Anytime. However, that might not be true for very much longer. The truth is, a young man or woman in their twenties, today, has very little, if anything, in common with those of us who’s twenties were a decade, or more, before now. And, relating to someone is made just that much more difficult due to the fact that twenty-something’s rarely, if ever, look up from their phones to truly engage any conversation, anyway. 

You know, the youth of today can, truly, be some disrespectful, little shits. On top of that, most of them are, also, lazy as fuck. oh, trust me. I know, firsthand. 

My eldest son could have been the founding member of that special group of youngins, right there. You know, the ones that feel entitled to all, but feel responsible for none. Hey. I’m not happy about it. I just haven’t found the secret to fixing this glitch of personality for him. Damnit! Guess I’ll have to just love him the way he is. (Argh!)

Despite most outward appearances, I don’t believe I’ve, ever, met anyone that, actually, grew up with a perfect home life. In all honesty, despite the five purvy family members that got off on diddling my very immature goodies, my childhood was, actually, quite idyllic. 
I had lots of toys, tons of friends, and every single year, by the Grace of God, my name always seemed to show up on Santa’s Nice List. (I’m, pretty sure, I qualified for the Naughty List, at least, once. Possibly, way, way more.)

No. My childhood was, certainly, not perfect, but I was quite unaware that there was anything wrong with it at all. Just like every other child, I was craving attention and affection and love. 

Quite frequently, during the early morning hours, I’d awaken to find any number of my uncle’s digits, almost knuckle-deep, inside my body. God knows, how many evenings, I sat, high, atop my grandfather’s knee, as he gave explicit lessons on precisely how he preferred me to touch him.

I sure loved my Paw Paw, and I, ABSOLUTELY, valued his opinion over, most, everyone else that existed in my very small world, back then. From then, on, he never had to show me that technique, again. 

Instead, from then, on, I took advantage of every opportunity I had alone with him to practice. So, as to outdo my previous performances. And, also, FROM THEN, ON, I received nothing, but the highest of praises. Oh, and an, ABSOLUTELY,  insatiable craving for cock, like none other.

I wasn’t even old enough, back then, to attend elementary school for the full day, like all the other students. There I was, just a kid. Respectful. Appreciative. Enthusiastic. Attentive. And, Determined. But, most importantly, I was never anything, if not, totally respectful. 

Shit. My mom would have beat me senseless, without question, at, just, the thought of me, even, thinking about disrespecting ANYONE older than myself. No matter how old, dude. 

Look, I’ve actually found myself, suddenly, with the flushed and heated cheeks of someone who’s just been smacked. And, damn hard, I’d have to guess. However, I’ve never actually witnessed my mother doing the ACTUAL SMACKING, herself. But, I can, ABSOLUTELY,  attest to the many, many times she has threatened to do so. (Too many, really.)

Worse, yet. There I am,  completely baffled and utterly confused, as I search, in vain, for the mysterious, ghost-like, hand of my mother that, surely, just slapped me square in my face. How could I have missed that??

So, there I am, with this, very attractive and very young, 24 year old, young man. So cute.  I mean,  he’s so damn cute… And, his smile, so, very genuine. He stood, at least, a half a head taller than myself, amusing me to no end.

I returned his friendly smile for several moments, until i realized he was about to say something. I almost cried out, “Nooo. Please, don’t fuck this up.” 

I just knew, it didn’t matter which words he used, they would completely shatter my present illusion of a 24 year old man, as attractive as he was intelligent. A tall, dark, very masculine, gentleman with a passion that rivaled my own. 

Oh, Whatever. It’s MY FANTASY, folks. Damn! That, sure, sounds like one helluva, sexxy azz fella, to me darlin. Until, he speaks… 

Only, he didn’t fuck it up. To be honest, I’m not really sure that, I, actually, heard what he did say. I mean, he seemed so well-versed and respectful. One might go as far as to use the word chivalrous when describing him to others.   

He spoke, rather, wisely, really, for such a young man.  At least, it sounded wise.  Shit!  I don’t know. His lips started moving and,  I suppose, I just drifted right on off. 

What I do know, for sure, is this man was SEXXY AS FUCK. No doubt about that! 

He was a confident man, with a very firm set of values already in place, far higher than anyone I’ve ever known personally, myself. The true gentleman in him, was nothing but thoughtful and respectful, never once uttering, even, one cuss word, accidentally, in my home. 

It was evident, this boy was raised properly. I found myself so intensely attracted to this… This man/child… You know, this young man. 

Only, he didn’t act like a YOUNG man, at all.  He, certainly, didn’t sound like a young man. And, truthfully, except for his youthful face, he had the lean, but well muscled body of… Well, a man. A working man.

We got along, almost immediately. There was, just, so much that we had in common. Most importantly, on that particular night, we were, both, super horny. I took one look at his cock, then met his gaze, again, but not fast enough. 

Before I knew what was up or down, we were all over each other. He was a very passionate kisser, no matter what the subject of his affection so happened at that time to be. I found his tongue talents served up my Greedy, like she was a rare delicacy, best when devoured, oh, so, slowly. This man/boy was really gifted, my friends!! 

We fucked. We talked. We talked and fucked, some more. When I caught him eyeballing my azz, and made a little joke, he admitted to not having any experience with back doors.  

Well, y’all know me. I flaunted my tight little rosebud of an azzhole, every chance I got, until he was desperate to spread it wide, all for himself. In all truthfulness, he wore my ass out. Literally.

Now, fast forward about 6 or 7 hours later. We’re both very sore, slightly raw, certainly, worn out,  and completely covered in our own juices, from head to toe. 

Still, it was nearly impossible to stop copulating. When we finally seperated, the pleasure we’d experienced with each other, stood, almost, palpably in the air between our naked and shivering bodies. 

He leaves, as most working men do, just before the sun rises. A few hours later, and he’s back, again. My ankles are pushed above my shoulders, or I’m bent forward on my knees with my hands pulled behind my back.

There, just, didn’t seem to be, even, one position that didn’t work for us. I, quite simply, could not stop orgasming. Of course,  I certainly didn’t wanna stop, anyway. So, we didn’t.  

This has certainly happened before. But as I look around me now, I can’t remember who those fuckers even were, anymore. By comparison, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this young man. 

He loved it. He liked it. He licked it. He adored, respected, and admired it.  Then, finally, he signed his name to it, and he owned it. I couldn’t have written it any better, myself. And, I wouldn’t have had it ANY OTHER WAY. 

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