I Love VD

Since I am such a fun-loving skank and cannot get enough of talking about myself I'd like to share with you a peculiar growth I have noticed on my taint.

I'm sure if you have made it to this wonderful little website you by now are lucky enough to know what a taint is, but if you are deprived of that knowledge, a taint is the piece of skin between a woman's pussy-hole and her asshole. Men have taints as well; they just exist between their balls and their assholes.

As for my own taint, I do not know what this growth is. I have never had a venereal disease (VD) before, and I am excited. One time I did think I had the clap and I was so happy.

I can remember the phone call like it was yesterday. It was from my friend Charlie, who lives in Baltimore. He was sort of embarrassed and said he had some bad news. Then he let fly that he had the clap, and since I had fucked him several times that I might have it as well. In a rush of joy, I called everyone I knew and told them about acquiring the clap, and I told them to tell everyone they knew.

To me, having a VD is like having my pussy as a weapon. I mean a treatable one like Chlamydia is not so bad; I would have been bummed if he told me he had HIV. That's a bitch, to say the least. But your seed becomes a fucking arsenal.

If you can get past that whole fucking a person you hate to death thing, you can pass on a present that they may have for the rest of their life. I did, however go to the clinic to get the Chlamydia treated, and since it's so expensive to actually get the test to see if you have it, they automatically assume you do and give you the antibiotics.

I was so happy to have finally contracted a VD. I even got to get into a conversation with my mom where she accidentally revealed to me that she had had almost every VD on the planet. What a slut! And I never would have found that out without the admission that I had Chlamydia.

Alas, everything good soon turns sour and I got a call from Charlie two weeks later saying that in fact he did not have the clap and that they had just treated him for it at the hospital. His test results came up negative. I was real upset. And it made me look like a real illegitimate liar like I was lying about having the clap, when it really was not my fault.

As for this new development, I'm almost positive this is a genital wart. I'm really hoping. Even though I use protection when I slum from bar to bar getting fucked by these man-trolls, it could be from some of their decaying, lumpen balls hitting my taint during sex. I just really want to be legit on this STD shit, ya know?

I don't lie, and I don't want my reputation to go sour because of one fake VD screw-up. This time it's the real thing for sure. I just know it. I think warts might be with me for life, which is sort of annoying, but life is about compromises.

If I want to have a VD, I have to manage it. It's like a child except...no it's exactly like a child. A VD and a child are pretty much the same. But I'd rather have a VD. For now.

Suck Stardom

I could turn you into such a star.

You dare wouldn't miss your mark with me.

Are you good with directions?

Will you do a nude scene?

Are you shaved?

How big are your nipples?

Will you let me slam a two-foot-long dildo endlessly into your tiny virgin bleeding asshole while you squeal like some fucking rat pig?

IT'S ESSENTIAL TO THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. I SWEAR.

...dear...babe...honey...sweetheart...

See that deviant slash-cut-hole between your skinny thighs? That hole from hell. After we shave that ape bush of yours you will.

And then I'll spread it open and force all sorts of things up into you. Nothing will quite fit. We'll have to really shove to get it in. You'll bleed a bathtub full.

And you’ll be a star, babe! A real star!

Like Jennifer Love Hewitt or Paris Hilton . . . You love those rich stinking cunts, don't you?

I know you love to watch television. You never turn it off. You leave it on all day while you poke and bleed all over your pretty little self just like you are bleeding now.

I wish I could fuck the holes you make in your body. Picture that needle as my hairy smelly big red cock, and you'll hate it.

The one thing you do to forget, and you can't.

You'll need to vomit.

You'll choke and sputter and come just this close to blacking out. This close to dying. Your eyes will turn white and suddenly you won't be able to cry anymore. Your throat will clamp tight. Your skull will pound. And I'll be cumming into your veins and I won't let you die. My sweat. My sperm. And your blood all over your entire existence. Your blood will taste exactly like me.

DEAR. SWEETY. HONEY.

You can go home now.

Really. Get dressed and go home.

Go ahead. Get out.

Bleeding from every orifice in your body.

Stretch that slut-fuck-me skirt over your flabby cottage cheese ass you fucking junky whore . . .

Get back on that corner of North and Rockwell and parade up and down . . . back and forth . . .

And we'll do it all over again.

This is not the end.

Only the beginning.

Just think...this stuff...all this stuff that's happening to you...it's just that you keep ending up with me. For no other reason that I was available at the right time.

Your bloated sickly slut body was hardly conscious at that bar. I saw you with your drunk, glassy eyes. Nothing anyone could do would've helped you. You wanted to come home with me to my sperm stench house and let this happen.

No books on how to say no.

No videos about bad touching or boundaries or how to stay safe.

No Barbra Walters specials or TV documentaries with helpful phone numbers or neighborhood support groups.

You were born for this.

It’s more than bad luck.

It all comes down to this.

And all the fun you had.

All the warmth that closeted you.

And all the love and care you fell for.

IT ALL ADDS UP TO SOME TAINTED PERSONALITY THAT FITS PERFECTLY OVER THE SHAFT OF MY DICK.