Welcome to the Pissing Contest

No matter what you write, somebody gets pissed off about it. Goes with the territory. I'm particularly blessed to have a couple of home town harpies who go ballistic every time I suggest that I might exert some attraction on women.

I also have home town relatives who, when they aren't asking for money, curse me for being the world's most appalling son of a bitch.

What the fuck can you do?

I left my teeny tiny hometown in the cornfields in Illinois, among other reasons, to get the fuck away from screeching harpies who figured that I owed them some explanation about what I did with my life... particularly my sex life.

And what a sex life I've enjoyed! Eat your hearts out bitches!

I spent my adult life in San Franciso and New York City. Nobody gives a shit what you do in these big cities, girls! By the standards of my piss ant little home town, I'm a pretty wild character. By the standards of the Big City, I'm a pretty damned normal guy with an occasional kink.

Sex was a particularly joyful and plentiful part of my life. My late wife, Myrna was drop dead gorgeous and she was a once a day (and sometimes twice a day on weekends) Filipina. (I'll get disgraceful e-mails from the harpies on this account. They're brutally vicious racists, too.)

I've had every kind of woman, every race, every body type, every type of character... I've had it all! God bless me, I triumphed over small town simple minded asshole Puritanism. I've enjoyed every kind of sexual pleasure with a women (or with more than one woman) imaginable.

Women loved me fiercely and passionately. Thank you, God!

You can bitch and moan all you like. You can try to engage me in a pissing match, but you probably won't even succeed there.

The joke's on you if you think I'm worried because you're pissed off about this. Sex was an absolutely fantastic part of my life, in every respect... even the procreation and the grandkids things.

I won the battle of life in just about every respect. Sure, there were some very tough tragedies along the way. That's part of the cost of an adventurous, exciting and romantic life. I left it all on the field. No regrets.

So, bitch away. It's all jealousy. Piss and moan all you like. Be creative. I don't owe you (or anybody else) shit. Rot away in jealousy in your sex starved little prison in the cornfields. You deserve it.

Comments

[Dad Bones]

Heh...you don't have to be so modest, ST.

Sex for me is like the story of a boy I heard while working in Mississippi. Somebody asked him if he ever ate all the watermelon he wanted. He said he never had all the watermelon he wanted but he had all he could hold.

[Howlin' Steve]

That was a good laugh, Dad Bones!