B
Bite triste
Iron
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2023
- Posts
- 20
- Reputation
- 29
Good day to you, friendos. I am a new member here, and I feel privileged to be a part of this community and eager to witness all of your journeys through the hellish yet beautiful landscape created by nature and understood only by the apostles of the blackpill. I will share my humble knowledge about the true nature of the blackpill not by stating facts all of you can obtain by a simple search request in your browser, but by short anecdotes in various forms. Do not worry, brothers, I won't be bothering you too often. And excuse any linguistic mistakes I make, I am not a native. Let us begin.
Thomas is worried
After a hard shift at the factory Thomas returns home. All day long he thought about his wife Christina and their marriage. Even though he is tired he decides to talk to her about his concerns. He finds her in their bedroom. All dolled up she is putting on a new dress.
Thomas: You look amazing in that dress, honey.
Christina: You smell like shit, filthy factory rat. Too stupid to get a real education. What the fuck do you want from me?
Thomas: There was something I simply couldn't get out of my head at work. How come we don't sleep with each other anymore? I miss the intimacy, and I am afraid we have lost the physical connection.
Christina: Eat shit, baldcel. Do you have the whipped cream I asked you to bring from the supermarket? I need it for tonight.
Thomas: I feel like you are avoiding me. Intimacy is a crucial part of a romantic relationship and I find it alarming that we haven't had sex in two years. What do you need whipped cream for?
Christina: None of your business, fatso. You better not tell me you ate it at the way home. Bloatcel looking motherfucker.
Thomas: I miss you, honey. I miss us. Remember when we started dating after I chased you for seven years? Remember when we first kissed? You were so shy, you tilted your head away from me. That was adorable.
Christina: Stop undressing me with your cuck eyes you beta male cocksucking faggot. When I look at your subhuman skull and weak manlet frame I want to set your stupid ass on fire. God-damn it, where is the lube?
Thomas: I don't want to pressure you into anything. I just want to make sure we are okay as a couple. I love you more than life, you know that. Maybe we should see a counsellor.
Christina: Did you use all my lube to jerk off to degenerate incest porn again? You are so gross, an abomination, a complete freak show. You are not even a real person, you know? Just thinking about you rubbing your slimy dicklet organ makes me wanna puke. Just kill yourself already, so I can move on with a real man.
Thomas: I know you love me and only want the best for me. I know we will figure something out. By the way, the deadly nightshade you planted next to the strawberries are really flourishing this year.
Christina: You are still paying your life insurance premiums, right? You disgusting sack of dog shit.
Thomas: Sure do. Have fun tonight, honey. I love you.
Christina: I hate you so fucking much. I pray to Lord Asmodeus every night that someone rips your dick off and makes you eat it.
Christina storms off leaving behind Thomas. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of milk. Outside he sees his wife getting in her car. After starting the engine she gives him the finger. He smiles at her and beckons.
It's over
Thomas is worried
After a hard shift at the factory Thomas returns home. All day long he thought about his wife Christina and their marriage. Even though he is tired he decides to talk to her about his concerns. He finds her in their bedroom. All dolled up she is putting on a new dress.
Thomas: You look amazing in that dress, honey.
Christina: You smell like shit, filthy factory rat. Too stupid to get a real education. What the fuck do you want from me?
Thomas: There was something I simply couldn't get out of my head at work. How come we don't sleep with each other anymore? I miss the intimacy, and I am afraid we have lost the physical connection.
Christina: Eat shit, baldcel. Do you have the whipped cream I asked you to bring from the supermarket? I need it for tonight.
Thomas: I feel like you are avoiding me. Intimacy is a crucial part of a romantic relationship and I find it alarming that we haven't had sex in two years. What do you need whipped cream for?
Christina: None of your business, fatso. You better not tell me you ate it at the way home. Bloatcel looking motherfucker.
Thomas: I miss you, honey. I miss us. Remember when we started dating after I chased you for seven years? Remember when we first kissed? You were so shy, you tilted your head away from me. That was adorable.
Christina: Stop undressing me with your cuck eyes you beta male cocksucking faggot. When I look at your subhuman skull and weak manlet frame I want to set your stupid ass on fire. God-damn it, where is the lube?
Thomas: I don't want to pressure you into anything. I just want to make sure we are okay as a couple. I love you more than life, you know that. Maybe we should see a counsellor.
Christina: Did you use all my lube to jerk off to degenerate incest porn again? You are so gross, an abomination, a complete freak show. You are not even a real person, you know? Just thinking about you rubbing your slimy dicklet organ makes me wanna puke. Just kill yourself already, so I can move on with a real man.
Thomas: I know you love me and only want the best for me. I know we will figure something out. By the way, the deadly nightshade you planted next to the strawberries are really flourishing this year.
Christina: You are still paying your life insurance premiums, right? You disgusting sack of dog shit.
Thomas: Sure do. Have fun tonight, honey. I love you.
Christina: I hate you so fucking much. I pray to Lord Asmodeus every night that someone rips your dick off and makes you eat it.
Christina storms off leaving behind Thomas. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of milk. Outside he sees his wife getting in her car. After starting the engine she gives him the finger. He smiles at her and beckons.
It's over
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