Tag Archives: crime

All Men Are Gangsters At Heart

Last time I was in DC I walked around one of the suburbs, pretty upscale, where old imperialists go to retire. It was during the summer and it was a trip to see these old men – old white men – with their old white wives, walking around going to the markets and taverns dressed in shorts and golf shirts.

They could have passed for retired professors, but I knew better. In their prime, these men were stone cold killers. I knew one of them. He’s pushing 70 now, but back in the 70s and 80s he would hop on a plane to some banana republic, spend a month or so doing god-knows-what, then just as his plane touched down in Dulles the TV would report some coup, some “regime change” or something far darker.

You’d ask him what he did on his “vacation” and he’d say, “oh the beaches were fantastic. I got a great tan.”

One of the reasons we like mafia movies so much is because it’s where white men are allowed to be “masculine prime” – violent, racist, promiscuous – while maintaining their civilized side: traditional, devout, with a family life.

Because men have both of these sides.

I can’t recommend enough an Australian series, Underbelly. The characters and plots are real. Season one and three are about the Australian organized crime of the 1980s and 1990s: drug dealing, especially MDMA and party drugs.

Carl Williams, a fat slob, basically a bogan, gets ambitious and murders the Moran brothers he was a driver for and muscles in on their ecstasy trade. It’s a wild ride watching this bogan go from a timid dork into a kingpin all while giving humorous interviews with the radio DJs pleading his complete innocence.

Brian Alexander is a quasi-lawyer who acts as a go between for the heroin dealers and the crooked cops – and Australia had a LOT of crooked cops on the take. When a Royal Commission is held to investigate police corruption and the government is closing in, the crooked cops decide Brian is a liability – he’s a “piss-pot with a big mouth” and his presumed murder (he simply disappeared and his body was never found) is dramatized as well as any Hollywood mafia murder:

Season two is a prequel about the Mr. Asia heroin syndicate run by an ambitious kiwi, Terry Clark and his hot, model girlfriends that smuggled the heroin for him. George Freeman, who was a famous “celebrity gambler” who owned a piece of every illegal casino in the 70s and 80s and was probably the closest to an “Australian Godfather” hires Chris Flannery, “Mr. Rent-a-Kill” to off all of his enemies, eventually having his partner, Lennie McPherson, killing Flannery before his can become a liability.

Season 4, “Razor” is set in the 1920 and features two women rivals, Tilly Devine who runs the prostitutes and Kate Leigh who runs the “sly grog” – illegal liquor during Prohibition – and their constant gang warfare and hilarious bitching at each other in the newspapers, a rivalry the newspapermen were more than happy to turn into a celebrity feud for the reading public.

The entire series has great writing, great acting, and great cinematography – all while staying very close to historical fact. Especially in the first season, the actors that play Carl Williams, George Freeman and Lennie McPherson are spitting images of their historical counterparts.

Also lots of spanking, so you know it’s good.

Highly recommended.

Satanic Drug Orgies

OK, so anyway, the Satanists.

So this dude that I went to high school with, let’s call him Dan. He was one of those guys that seemed smart – he looked like he should be smart. But I don’t think he really was. Kind of soft-spoken. I don’t think his family was particularly religious, but for some reason he got into drugs and the occult. He was the type that was always reading Crowley and the Kabbalah and that sort of thing. Also, way into LSD and “magic mushrooms” and the like.


Well, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, but sort of “beta” I guess, but he did wind up with this girlfriend, let’s call her Alisha. Alisha was just a bit too plump to be hot, and her face was just a bit too … something to be hot. But she did have a great rack and a round ass, and being about 21 I guess, she did ok for herself.

So Dan’s two friends that were also into this occult stuff. One was this loser. Short, ugly, geeky, and a really bad personality, let’s call him Mike. The other was also ugly, a bit fat, but really tall, let’s call him Bill. Very beta. He was pretty smart though and had all sorts of money, both family money as well as a really good paying job. I guess he was about 30.

So one day Margie and I are over at their huge – I mean freaking *huge* – house. It must have had, like, ten bedrooms, five stories. It was a sort of townhouse right in the middle of a major East Coast city. We’re sitting around on this guy’s huge bed, smoking weed, drinking wine, and listening to weird industrial goth music. So Alisha is laying next to Margie, and all of a sudden Margie is grabbing my hand, then when Alisha gets up to get more wine, Margie says, “come on, come on, let’s go. I want to go home.” I ask her what’s wrong, she says, “this chick is blowing in my ear. Gross. Come on let’s go.”

I had my first three way with Margie, so it’s not that she was completely opposed to the idea, but, frankly, Margie was like, way, way hotter than Alisha. I supposed I was a hell of a lot better looking than Dan, and I know that Margie didn’t have the slightest interest in fucking him. So this particular party gets cut short and Margie and I go home.

So anyway, one night they are doing drugs and various occult rituals, and decide to have an orgy. Apparently, Alisha liked fucking Dan, and she was fine with fucking Bill. But she balked at fucking Mike. So, apparently, Dan is fucking Alisha, then Alisha pairs off with Bill for a turn, and Mike just winds up sitting around playing with himself. I did not hear this first hand, but I have a suspicion that there was a forth guy there, and Mike and this forth guy were “bisexual” so probably wound up sucking each other’s dicks.

So later after the acid has mostly worn off, and Alisha, Dan, and Bill had fucked themselves out, they start to fall asleep. And what do you know. The entire time Mike is watching Alisha fuck Dan and Bill, his jealousy and rage are just growing. He’s getting angrier and angrier, feeling humiliated because he’s the only one that Alisha wouldn’t fuck. I’m sure he enjoyed the bisexual stuff, but fucking Alisha was the actual goal.

So what does he do?

He get a hammer and smashes her in the head with it.

She screams, Dan wakes up, and sees a naked Mike, dick in hand, still tripping his balls off, standing over the bed about to hit her with the hammer again. Dan and Bill subdue the guy, talk him down a bit, but now they have a dilemma.


They can’t go to the cops. This is attempted murder, but they can’t go to the cops because they themselves would likely be busted for all the acid – and remember, a pot charge is one thing. LSD is super-illegal. You will do heavy time for LSD. And once you’re on the cop’s list for something like that, you are always going to be watched.

So what do they do? Apparently Bill ties up Mike – of course, these are people involved in Satanic drug orgies, of course they had bondage shit, and basically make him sit there until he finally comes down off his LSD trip. They throw all his clothes and belongings into a bag, give him fifty dollars, and at dawn drop him off on some street corner somewhere and tell him to stay the fuck away from them, their house, and never, ever come back.

“Polyamory” doesn’t work. Very, very few men are able to watch the woman he’s in love with – or even just infatuated by – being penetrated vaginally, orally, and anally by another man. It just goes against the instincts of most men. Sure, maybe some gal you picked up for a one night stand, sharing her with your buddy? Sure that kind of thing might work.

It doesn’t work in reverse, as much. I’m guessing there are far, far more women that would even be turned on by the idea of their man fucking another woman (they call it cuck-queaning – don’t ask me how I know this.) But the cuckold fetish is just not that common among men. It just goes against the natural impulses.

Moral of the story – don’t hold Satanic drug orgies. It almost never turns out well.


They Don’t Make Satanists Like They Used To; Or; Why You Always Kill The Whore At The End Of An Orgy

I loved Gregory Hood’s new article, Fedora Satanism. Gregory Hood pretends he doesn’t read me, but then again you notice Hipster-isms show up in his work. Remember, Gregory Hood and I have been reading each other for well over five years now, on various websites. I just change my handle every few years.


So his latest about the Temple of Satan, the parody group that puts Satanic symbols in public places as a protest against Christian groups always wanting to put up the 10 Commandments or something. Hood compares this group – just a bunch of politically correct progressive leftists – to the old Church of Satan, the carnie act put on by Anton Levey – real name, Harry Levinstein or something. Hood quotes Levey actually making a gesture toward actual taboo-breaking when Levey suggests that a real church of Satan, back in the 1960s, would have mocked “Eastern gurus,” drugs and the drug cults, and praised old fashioned religious fundamentalism. Those were the taboos that the New Left were then abiding by.

You only have to read the comments at Alternative Right, one of the Satanists gets real butthurt that we’re not finding him as brilliant as he thinks he is. This is extremely typical on the progressive left. They are just sure – absolutely certain – that they are smarter, funnier, and more clever than everyone else. The entire progressive left runs on the Dunning-Krueger effect.

The Temple of Satan really gives itself away though – it shows how utterly unsatanic, and utterly politically correct – with their “protest” against … wait for it … the Westboro Baptist Church.

Let me tell you – the real taboo breakers? The real people working for the Dark Lord? The Westboro Baptist Church. Those people – those people broke taboos. When the Temple of Satan holds a ritual to turn Fred Phelp’s mother gay in the afterlife – that’s not breaking any taboos. That’s not anything even remotely clever, or remotely controversial.

That’s the Official Religion today. Saying Abraham Lincoln was really gay – I mean, they named the GOP gay group after that rumor. Turning people gay in the afterlife is basically a sport for the left.

When the Temple of Satan holds an event *honoring* the Westboro Baptist Church, then I’ll take them seriously. In case anyone forgot, the Westboro Baptist Church were sued all the way to the Supreme Court, and the WBC – almost single-handedly – defended freedom of speech and religion during the Bush administration, the “war on terror” and the Evangelical Christian rise post 9/11.

You would think supposed taboo-breaking Temple of Satanists would have figured this one out, eh? The Westboro Baptist Church are the “most hated family in America.” While George W. Bush and his Republican party were using Christian sentiments to promote his war on terror, the Westboro Baptist Church followed the publicity along, profaning and desecrating it. While Bush – and every two-bit pulpit-whore across America – was telling the mothers of soldiers killed in Iraq, “your son is in Heaven. He died for a good cause. God bless America.”

What did the WBC say? They said, “Bush is lying, your son didn’t die for a good cause – he died so Bush could promote fag marriage and fags in the military, and your son is roasting in Hell. God hates America, America is doomed.”

You know, when the WBC talked about the “fag Army” pre-2004, it didn’t make any sense did it. It was crazy; out of left field. Homosexuality was basically illegal in the military, a firing offense, and the US military was stuffed full of conservatives not known for their tolerant views on gay marriage.

You know, then we caught a first glimpse of the USA’s homosexual torture program. Sticking things up men’s asses. Forcing inmates to fellate each other. Dressing prisoners up in women’s underwear. All sorts of bondage – and everything heavily, heavily homo-sexualized.

Various “enhanced interrogation techniques” would slip out in the publics eye. In one case, a female soldier reached her hand down her pants, removed her bloody tampon, and smeared the blood on a detainee’s face while he was restrained. One of the most iconic images of the era was that of a female US soldier holding a leash connected to a dog collar of an Iraqi.

Sounds like something out of a FemDom BDSM porn doesn’t it?

As for religious taboos, pissing on Korans in front of detainees was par for the course. Also remember, all of this was done to “get intelligence” – whatever that means exactly.

Now, you see, while the Evangelical Christians and mega-churches and southern Republicans were singing “God Bless America” patting themselves on the back for the patriotism and support of Israel, and intoning quite seriously how we were in the Last Days in a fight with Islam to bring Jesus back …

… one group was actually taking on the “Official Christianity” of that time in America, and it sure as hell wasn’t a bunch of nerdy progressives pretending to be Satanists. That doesn’t even rise to the level of trolling Christians.

I’ll tell you what is trolling Christians – showing up at a public event where gasbag Republicans are talking about how much they love the troops and want to protect marriage, and holding up a sign that says “God hates America, Fag Troops.”

Let’s be honest – the Temple of Sataners wouldn’t have the fucking guts to do anything like that.

So the Temple of Sataner that showed up in the comments gets real, real butthurt about “racism.” You see, that’s his taboo. He is not in the least bit supportive of free speech for “racists” except for, perhaps, the most limited technical way. The think is, though, notice his reaction. Notice how quick he is to distance himself from “racists.” He uses one well-worn line, a class-based form of shaming. He is, essentially, calling “racists” “rednecks and poor white trash.” He says, only the worst sorts of white people are “racist” and that anyone who would be “proud” of the various accomplishments of the white race aren’t worthy of participating in them.

I’m telling you, once you notice it … white people who jump to show how totally “not racist” they are remind one of nothing so much as those totally-not-gay guys that go out of their way to angrily assert how totally not-gay they really are, often when no one was really even talking about that. Someone protesting too much, etc. It’s astonishing, sometimes, how utterly un-self-aware many on the left really are.

So, anyway, I knew these Satanists once and one of them was, at the time, gaining membership to a world-wide secret society of Satanists, a secret society that went back over 100 years. They would participate in Eyes Wide Shut style sex parties, do Satanic rituals, and read a lot of Crowley.

I think that gives one as much Satanic credibility as one can get, by the way. While I never did get involved, my girlfriend and I were propositioned by this guy’s girlfriend – she wanted to fuck us – and we had spent time partying at their five story, huge freaking house in a major Northeast city.

But these scenes – for some reason, you start worshiping Satan and bad shit starts to happen. So after one particular night of all sorts of crazy shit … one of the Satanists takes a hammer and starts bashing this girl’s head in.

Like I said, it was a bad scene man.

OK, let me put this in context

Forgetting Holly


What do you think I am, some sort of monster?


Hey, what’s the point of this? Oh hey
What’s your favorite song? Maybe we could hum along

Hey, maybe just a smile, oh hey, did you know
That I can dance? Could we talk for awhile?

I think you’re smart, you sweet thing
Tell me your name, I’m dying here

Got you where I want you
Got you where I want you



Busting Holly


Come on, you knew it wasn’t going to end well. They caught the two guys a month or so later, red handed, breaking into an animal research facility. So we wound up not needing Holly at all. Which made me feel like shit. I was getting reassigned so I had to make my exit. I came up with some sort of lame excuse about transferring to another university. I promised Holly we would stay in touch. I’m not sure if she really believed me or not. Then, just before I left, she called me up and told me she had something serious to tell me.

I went over and just held her as she cried and cried. We just laid down on the couch and held each other. I took her to get it done a week later, paid for everything, then helped her move her stuff out of the dorms for Christmas break, took her home. We didn’t talk for maybe two weeks afterwards, she didn’t want to.

It got worse. One of the guys I had met at hockey sent me an email telling me I should probably see this. It was all the pictures. I think her bitch of a roommate, Stephanie, had gotten into her laptop and emailed them around. It looked horrible of course. Like something out of a horror movie. I mean, no one would understand anyway. Holly called me up in panic. I assured her I didn’t do it, I mean I would never. It was vicious gossip among all the students over Christmas break. She was getting harassing email – nasty stuff, from women and men. Just totally unnecessary bullying. People are assholes.


It all just blew up in our faces. She skipped the spring semester then transferred to some other college, she never went back. We did stay in touch but we were never together after that. Sometimes we would promise to get together but neither of us really believed it.

Just like that, it was all over. I asked for leave from work. I drank for nearly a month, basically, alone in my apartment, feeling like the biggest asshole alive.

I’ve been roaming around, always looking down, at all I see
Painted faces fill the places I can’t reach
You know that I could use somebody

Someone like you and all you know and how you speak
Countless lovers undercover on the street

Off in the night, while you live it up I’m off to sleep
Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat

I hope it’s gonna make you notice

You know that I could use somebody
You know that I could use somebody
Someone like you


Hurting Holly

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end


So it escalated. I wanted to push her limits – to find her limits. Find her boundaries, then break them. So, I gagged her and tied her up. It drove her crazy. While I was doing it, I’d just do this trash talk routine. Playful threats, “oh the things I’m going to do to you” – that sort of thing. I mean, writing them down and it sounds terrible. But Holly understood. She liked it.

She was asking for it.

So, I gave it to her.

And how!

We played the game all over campus. She’d text me: “catch holly.” And I’d stalk her. We pretended we didn’t even know each other. I’d just stare at her from across the quad, or “accidentally” brush into her and say, “excuse me, ma’am” or something like that. One time – we were both pretty drunk – I was being really aggressive, fucking her in her dorm room. She broke into tears. So I stopped – I asked her what’s wrong? Is she ok? What happened? She smiled through the tears and said “don’t stop.”

So, I didn’t.


She was kind of rough herself. I mean I still have scars on my back. She liked the pain. Spanking, hair pulling, choking, slapping, all of it. She really couldn’t get enough. She said it made her feel, ironically, calm. Safe. I dunno, since I put her in these situations where she had no control, she just sort of relaxed and let it happen. And wow, every emotion a woman is able to feel – I made her feel each and every one. From the sweetest pleasure to the most aching pain. From laughter, to tears, from happiness to sadness, from fear to safety, I played her body like a piano.

Then, I dunno, a few months later she says something that floored me. I mean, you really never know how people are. I figured this girl was experienced sexually. I mean, really. She’s a feminist, pro-choice activist and was always trying to “reclaim” words like “slut” and “whore.” I just assumed she had been around the block a few times.

But then she told me that I was her first.

I mean, I didn’t break her hymen or anything. She wasn’t “technically” a virgin. She had lost her virginity in high school to some random guy, then had a high school boyfriend she said she had sex with “a few times.” But I was her first lover – her first man. Probably gave her her first orgasm.

When she said it, I wanted to cry.

You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt


Strugglefucking Holly

Don’t read this. You won’t like it. If you do, don’t complain because I warned you.

I opened her dorm room door. She said, “hi … who is it?” She looked up and saw me, kind of looked scared. So I said “Hi Holly,” smiled, and walked over to the bed and just jumped on her. She screamed, “no! stop! What are you doing?”

“Oh come on Holly, it’s just me,” I say. I start kissing her neck. She moans, “no stop it. Stop it. No!” She uses both her hands to try to push me off. I grab her left arms just under her elbow and take her right by her wrist with my other hand, push her arms above her head and then hold both her wrists in my hand. “Come on Holly, you’ll like it. You’re so hot. I bet you’ll get wet.”

“Stop it,” she screams, her voice turning hoarse. She pushes her wrists up as hard as she can but I just hold them down with my left hand, then use my right to tickle her on the side of her waist. “No!” she wails, wriggling and struggling. She starts to life up one leg so I keep my crotch right below hers, on her thighs, so she can’t kick me. “Stop it! Noooo!” She’s wiggling around, then starts sobbing. She relaxes, relents and the tears start flowing.

“Sweetie, you know you want it. I saw the way you were looking at me.” Between sobs she moans, “no, no.” I grab the top of her nightgown and rip down hard, her breasts falling out. I rub both her breasts, brushing my palms across her nipples, back and forth, squeezing a little then letting up.

“I bet you’re wet, you little slut! You know you like it.” I reach my hand from her breasts, across her stomach.

She jolts against me, “no! Stop! Don’t! Stop it!” I push her wrists down hard, then bring my other hand up and put it around her neck and squeeze. She starts jerking her head back and forth.

“Don’t be a bitch. You’re not going to be running your liberal mouth now. I bet you’re wet. I bet your pussy is soaked, isn’t that right?” I squeeze her neck really hard, then let go, run my hands down her side, grab her nightgown and pull it up. She keeps her legs tightly closed so I just make a sudden jerk, like I’m going to hit her, and she freezes. Her eyes are closed and she’s sobbing softly, tears all down the sides of her face.

I grab the crotch of her panties, pull them to the side, and rub the outside, poke my fingers inside a bit.

“Ha! I knew it, you little slut. Feel how wet you are. You’re soaked. You know you want it.”

She breaks into sobs all over again.

I put my hand around her neck, unzip my pants with the other hand and pull out my cock. I’m fucking hard now. I use my weight to push her legs apart. She’s crying now, jerking around every once in a while, then trying to scream under my hand. Then she relaxes and starts crying again.

“Come on, baby.” Fuck I’m breathing heavy as I start to stick it in. She flinches again, starts moaning.

The bitch fucking loved it.

When I’m done, I pull up my pants and stand up. She’s lying on the bed, on her side, curled up, totally silent. I tell her, “don’t tell anyone. This is between us, got it?” I open the door and turn to look at her, just lying there on the bed.

I say, “no one would believe you anyway,” and shut the door behind me.


The Life and Times of Hipster Racist

Comments, criticism, and hush money welcome.


Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery
Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Baltimore Stories


Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

The Slut Power

The Slut Power
The Slut Power

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5



Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

High School Harlots

High School Harlots
High School Harlots

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6



Strugglefucking Holly
Helpless Holly
Holly In Harm’s Way
Hazardous For Holly
Holly’s Heart
Catch Holly
Hurting Holly
Busting Holly
Forgetting Holly

The Tree Of The Knowledge Of Good And Evil


Part I: Jenny
Part II: Carrie

AE911Truth: Experts Speak Out
Zero: An Investigation Into 9/11
9/11: Press For Truth
Hypothesis: The Story of Dr. Steven E. Jones
Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth
WTC7 Research
Remember Building 7


The Slut Power 5


So when I see the pictures in the newspaper, I recognize The Jew. I had seen him around the club and I knew he was involved in some way, but it seems like he was the guy actually running everything. Or at least, the highest ranking guy they got. It looked like he was going to be the fall guy one way or another. The guys that I worked with were amateurs, no doubt, and things had gotten way, way out of hand. You’re supposed to be discreet about these things. Sure, everybody knew these girls were doing more than lapdances, but it was all supposed to be hush hush, in a back room, behind a curtain, that sort of thing. But at one of the clubs – oh yeah, there were a few – the one in the Village, it had just gotten ridiculous. Just full out orgies, everybody fucking in front of everybody else. Snorting lines off of the girls tits, that sort of thing. It should have never gotten to that level.

So it was only a matter of time. Fucking Bitch was a cop. She didn’t come from me. She said she would only do massages, she ever brought one of those fucking fold out massage tables. I have no idea which idiot let her in, that should have been a tell right there. She floats from our club, to the one in the Village, where she witnesses the whole thing. Next day, the cops show up. I’m hearing all this second hand. The cops separate the men from the women, get everyone’s IDs, and made a bunch of arrests. Including Miss Baltimore. Word got to my cousin who called me. I nearly flipped my shit. I took down the site immediately, I wiped all records off of all my computers and took the backups down to the Shore and hid them, burying the hard drive in a coffee can in the back yard.


By the paper’s account, The Jew had started the whole thing. The guy I worked with was evidently just some street pimp that got hooked up into this and promoted to run one of the clubs, the safe one. I told my cousin to get rid of whatever he was holding, to dump it in the river if he had to. To expect a visit from the po-po and likely arrest. At least a questioning. I could tell he wasn’t going to do it. He’s always been just too fucking greedy for his own good, losing a few thousand in product is not going to set us back enough to justify the risk. I seriously, seriously considering calling up a guy and kicking my cousin’s ass, just to scare him.

Fortunately for us, the story was quickly buried by an even bigger bust, of big time guys. They were running some elite escort ring and the madame was trying to pull a DC Madame thing, claiming she had high ranking politicians and CEOs in her customer list, etc. It didn’t work for the DC Madame – she would up dead – don’t know what happened to this woman.

So piecing it together, it went something like this. Guiliani had stamped down on the strip clubs as part of his clean up the city effort. Then, after 9/11, all NYPD resources were directed towards counter-terrorism, which basically everybody knew was just free money from the feds to pretend to look for non-existent terrorists. A lot of that money was just plain and simple pay-offs for looking the other way and not asking too many questions about 9/11. Someone actually did a study of payments made to FDNY, it was spread out system wide, instead of concentrated to the firehouses that had actually lost their people in the towers. The payments were heavily tilted towards officers, top guys, instead of rank and file firemen. Even some of the victims weren’t real. Totally phoney names, made up stories.

Guilty as sin, free as a bird
Guilty as sin, free as a bird

So with the strip clubs getting pushed out of business, and the internet becoming mainstream, The Jew had the bright idea of starting a private club. The first thing he had done was rent a bar in midtown and hold a huge party, announce it online, and collect emails and the like. $20 lapdances from Russian girls. That was sort of the announcement. Then, guys would sign up with their email address, go through some sort of vetting process. At first, it really was just lapdances, just hanging out with pretty girls. It quickly became a full on deal until the blow up at the club in the Village.

My cousin left town shortly thereafter. I was never questioned, the website never came up in the newspapers. At least I was smart enough to keep a distance between the website and the club. They talked to Geek Girl, then we gave their numbers to the guys at the club. Technically speaking, we were doing nothing illegal with the website.

Uh, that’s it I guess. End of story. I never got involved in anything like that since. The statute of limitations had run its course.

Looks like I got away with it. 🙂


The Slut Power 4

Miss Baltimore
Miss Baltimore

I guess I really only have two regrets. First, I regret what happened to Miss Baltimore. It was inevitable really. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch any of these girls, but I made an exception for Miss Baltimore. Any red blooded man would have. You just don’t turn down an opportunity like that. I got in – and out – before her inevitable decline. She was barely 21 and it didn’t take long.

My second regret is letting my cousin stay with me. Oh, I knew he was trouble, he always had been. Of all my family, he was the most like me, in personality. A hard core introvert that nevertheless could turn on the charm – and turn it off just as quickly. He’d been a petty drug dealer since he was a teenager, and while I might have some, ah, moral flexibility, my cousin simply had no morals at all. Likely the very day he got his driver’s license and a car, he would be going up to East Baltimore and buying coke from the blacks, bringing it back to the suburbs and throwing parties. The stories he told me, I wouldn’t have believed him, except that I knew him.

If you are the father of a daughter, stop reading now. You’re not going to like this. If you’re the mother of a daughter, go ahead and keep reading, because you know how y’all are. My cousin and I, guys like us, we figured out you ladies a long time ago. My cousin – if these fathers only knew what he was doing to their daughters, he would have been shot and dumped in some ditch a long time ago. These fathers don’t know, but the mothers do. Because the mothers remember what it was like when they were their daughter’s age, and they are essentially in a conspiracy with other women to keep men in the dark about the way women really are. Some of us men, though, we escaped the reservation as it were.

Now I am not the type of guy that would trade cocaine for blowjobs from neighborhood girls. But my cousin? Yeah, he would. And worse. And he kept getting away with this sort of thing. He never got caught. Well, he did get caught once, selling dimebags in Central Park like a moron. He got back one night visibly shaking, told me the story of how NYPD had caught him, but when they found out he was just peddling dime bags of weed, not coke, they let him go. But not before he thought long and hard about what it would be like to spend the night in a NYC jail as a skinny white boy. No, of course it wasn’t enough to scare him straight, but at least he tried to avoid such stupid bonehead moves in the future.

My Cousin
My Cousin

Well just before he came to stay with me, I had met Geek Girl at some tech party. She was just 17. She fancied herself a hacker and loved hanging around geek boys. I had gone to this event with Crazy Bitch, who was at that point acting as my “wing man” trying to peddle me off to some other girl, I guess. But then every time I would replace her, as it were, she would get jealous. It was Geek Girl, though, that got her really jealous. Anyway, 17 is too young for me, so I pawned Geek Girl off on my cousin, they got along great and were happily humping the day they met. That did not stop Geek Girl propositioning me every time my cousin wasn’t around, though. I was older and girls want nothing more than the attention of an older man. At some point, just after her 18th birthday, I gave in one night. It was pretty damn hot, but I felt really bad since in theory, she was my cousin’s. Whatever. When Crazy Bitch found out that I had been fucking Geek Girl, she went ballistic. My cousin and Geek Girl had been staying with us, and my cousin was out of town for a week, so I guess it just happened. Crazy Bitch actually started a fight over who’s bed I would sleep in that night, hers, with her, or mine, with Geek Girl. I sarcastically, sadistically said, hey, let’s all sleep in my bed, but that just got her even more pissed.

When Geek Girl finally started college, she just assumed Computer Science would be a natural fit, and since she was an accomplished script kiddie, she wouldn’t have any problems. Ah, the boldness of youth. She failed all of her classes, dropped out after one semester, took a look at her life, and decided to join the Army. I saw her when she got out of boot camp, the most self-confident I had ever seen her, and the happiest. I saw her once more, after her tour of Iraq was cut short for reasons she didn’t want to talk about and was honorably discharged after less than a year. She wasn’t the same person at all. All the joy was gone. The bright, happy, bubbly Geek Girl that I had met was replaced by a haggard, sad, paranoid woman that couldn’t even look you in the eye.

Ah, the Bush years. America, where we send out 19 year old girls half way around the world to fight foreigners. At least she didn’t turn out to be a teenage mother! That would have been terrible, ruining her life like that. I doubt she’ll ever have kids now.

Geek Girl
Geek Girl

So, anyway, I hook up my cousin with these guys, and he starts working the door at the club. I also have Geek Girl calling the models. I figured they would be more at ease talking to a woman. Geek Girl was only slightly aware of what all this meant. She said she wanted to be a model too. I laughed at her. I told her, sure, she was pretty enough, but you don’t want to be doing this. Thinking back on it now, she probably would have been better off doing whatever these girls were doing at these parties.

So, my cousin and I, we’ve got a whole little thing going on now. We’re recruiting models online, hooking them up with these guys, and we have a little distribution business going on between Manhattan and our place down the Shore. We are rolling in money and pussy.

But these things never last.

K FlayParty