BigJimsWornOutTires
Emerald
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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Many men my age aren't pleased and live with broad rue. They've ultimately acquired what they desired yet believe they can turn the clock back. So you'll see them driving muscle cars or motorcycles and dressing like a teenager or roughneck. Ugh. Fucking embarrassing—sad. Because of that remorse, they radiate. They're never satisfied.
Poetic justice established.
And most of you will be that guy one day. I can tell by reading your threads. You're already mortified. Ugh. Add ten to twenty more years, fuck. I do not envy any of you.
You will be that guy.
But you won't be me.
I'm happy where I'm at on the scale of life. When I was single, you wouldn't see me pushing for dates with younger vaginas (20+). But you would see me turning a few of them away. "Are you gay or something?" Once a girl said after I asked her to get dressed. She came by my place to use the phone. Hers broke. Then once inside, she requested the restroom—which was through my bedroom. I lived in a studio condo. Moments later, she quietly shouts, "Can you come over here for a second?" I was in the living room. So I attend to her request, and she's now laying on my platform bed butt naked—legs entwined. Her back was against the headboard.
I shook my head and refused to accompany her dilemma. "Are you gay or something?" She asked.
"You in all people should know that answer," I assured her to recollect. She knew the other women around the complex. She heard the rumors about Unit 2025.
"I'm 22! Not a teenager, Jim." She reminded me of what I already knew. "Am I ugly or something?" She finally got off the bed and got dressed in disgrace while endeavoring to cast a guilt trip with pouts.
"I had my share of your age," I said as I glanced away because she intentionally bent over in a conspicuous whore-like manner. "I don't wish to turn back that clock."
She chuckled and replied, "Whatever." Then, after slipping her other flip-flop on, she approached me. "Can I at least suck your dick? Or did you get enough of that too?"
"Ugh. I'll suck my own dick. I don't need you for that." After speaking those very words, she stood speechless—confused—in utter disbelief. Then she tried to say something, but fast I placed my hand against her face, "Shh. Leave it at that. It's time for you to go." She quickly slapped my hand off and retracted her head back.
I directed the confused roastie to the front door, opened it, and gently pushed her through. As I was shutting the door in her face, she uttered a broken sentence, "But I lov-"
If you're not pleased with the present, you won't be henceforward. No matter the goals you're achieving today, the hours you invest in work or school, tomorrow will be no different if you carry regret as you do.
Like releasing sandbags of sin with penance, the same must apply for remorse.
Poetic justice established.
And most of you will be that guy one day. I can tell by reading your threads. You're already mortified. Ugh. Add ten to twenty more years, fuck. I do not envy any of you.
You will be that guy.
But you won't be me.
I'm happy where I'm at on the scale of life. When I was single, you wouldn't see me pushing for dates with younger vaginas (20+). But you would see me turning a few of them away. "Are you gay or something?" Once a girl said after I asked her to get dressed. She came by my place to use the phone. Hers broke. Then once inside, she requested the restroom—which was through my bedroom. I lived in a studio condo. Moments later, she quietly shouts, "Can you come over here for a second?" I was in the living room. So I attend to her request, and she's now laying on my platform bed butt naked—legs entwined. Her back was against the headboard.
I shook my head and refused to accompany her dilemma. "Are you gay or something?" She asked.
"You in all people should know that answer," I assured her to recollect. She knew the other women around the complex. She heard the rumors about Unit 2025.
"I'm 22! Not a teenager, Jim." She reminded me of what I already knew. "Am I ugly or something?" She finally got off the bed and got dressed in disgrace while endeavoring to cast a guilt trip with pouts.
"I had my share of your age," I said as I glanced away because she intentionally bent over in a conspicuous whore-like manner. "I don't wish to turn back that clock."
She chuckled and replied, "Whatever." Then, after slipping her other flip-flop on, she approached me. "Can I at least suck your dick? Or did you get enough of that too?"
"Ugh. I'll suck my own dick. I don't need you for that." After speaking those very words, she stood speechless—confused—in utter disbelief. Then she tried to say something, but fast I placed my hand against her face, "Shh. Leave it at that. It's time for you to go." She quickly slapped my hand off and retracted her head back.
I directed the confused roastie to the front door, opened it, and gently pushed her through. As I was shutting the door in her face, she uttered a broken sentence, "But I lov-"
If you're not pleased with the present, you won't be henceforward. No matter the goals you're achieving today, the hours you invest in work or school, tomorrow will be no different if you carry regret as you do.
Like releasing sandbags of sin with penance, the same must apply for remorse.
