BigJimsWornOutTires
Emerald
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
- Posts
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Ten years ago, I gave a 20-year-old the best advice a man my age could share. “Get a fucking job, bitch!” And so he did.
After six months of wage slaving for a convenience store, a customer flirted with Bitch. She was a forty-year-old wet MILF on a business trip. And she had an ass to pound, thanks to South America’s plastic surgery. They swapped numbers.
The next evening, she picked him up and brought him to one of her houses. She was a big fan of real estate. She collected things that made her money. Bitch believed roasties her age were experts with sex. Though some were, she wasn’t. She lay there with her finger in his ass as he did much of the work.
The MILF had lustful eyes for the runt. But he wouldn’t make a suitable boyfriend because of his age. Rather, “I want you to meet someone.” She said as she picked his hair with a comb. “Can you drive yourself here this weekend?” Bitch nodded.
Friday evening, she introduced him to her 20-year-old daughter. Ugh, she had a body that belonged to the streets. But she was autistic. She talked a lot! They hit it off.
Two years later, the mom passed away. She didn’t share with Bitch about her terminal illness. And she didn’t tell him he was two scratch-outs on her bucket list.
Have charity sex with an eyesore
Hitch Barbera with the eyesore as an epic catchback
Bitch was black. Her ex-husband didn’t like them niggas. Do the math.
The youthful couple inherited fifty million dollars after they were married. He threw a party five days a week! Topless waitresses, free drugs, bartenders, and a baby oil-filled jacuzzi were common sights.
Unfortunately, they went broke a year later. In the end, they separated. She moved in with her pimp, a guy Bitch introduced her to at a party. And he ended up in a motel room next to mine, selling meth and crack.
“A full circle, huh?” I said to him.
“Yeah, but I had a good ol’ time!” he replied. As I sipped my pint of moonshine, I felt something cold against the side of my stomach. I looked down and saw the barrel of a pistol. “Now, call me a bitch again,” he said.
Ugh.
About four months after I met Bitch, I told this other kid, who was 19, “Get a fucking job, you little pussy!” He did.
After eight months of wage slaving, Little Pussy’s boss had a party at a bowling alley. There, he met one of his coworkers’ sisters. She was 17 and about to have a birthday. They hit it off. They got married and had three kids.
Six years ago, I told this 22-year-old, “Get a fucking job, punk-ass curry-looking motherfucker!” And so he did.
After a year of wage slaving, Punk Ass Curry-Looking Motherfucker met his manager’s niece. She came by with her mother to drop off an invitation to a wedding. They hit it off and exchanged numbers. She invited him to the celebration of lovers. He accepted.
A half a month later, as he’s driving to the wedding, a UFO hovered over him. That Motherfucker and his car vanished. No one heard from him since. But investigators found his head floating near the Andaman Islands. Raman Bageecha Beach, to be exact. They believed he was abducted and later beheaded by aliens from out of space.
The moral of this sharing is simple. Get a job, tolerate wage slaving, and take the chance. Whining all day while avoiding reacting to my legendary threads illustrates a picture of the kind of loser you are. I discharge logs of gems that enlarge eyes from the foids larping here. Some of these sad little bitches shake their heads and think, “Either these guys are this stupid, or they’re not real people.”
You faggots are lazy! It’s like you want another man to hold your hand and bring you into a room that has a TikTok trend lying on the bed, butt-naked. “Go get her, tiger.” He says and slaps your hind. You wiggle your scrawny, nasty ass out of your Walmart jeans and climb into bed. “You’re welcome.”
Here's a reality check, though. The other guys in this manosphere are getting laid. They DO NOT want you to touch a woman, ever! Of course, it would be those faggots private messaging you not to comment or react to my legendary threads. They don’t want you to ascend above them. My advice: forget about it.
After six months of wage slaving for a convenience store, a customer flirted with Bitch. She was a forty-year-old wet MILF on a business trip. And she had an ass to pound, thanks to South America’s plastic surgery. They swapped numbers.
The next evening, she picked him up and brought him to one of her houses. She was a big fan of real estate. She collected things that made her money. Bitch believed roasties her age were experts with sex. Though some were, she wasn’t. She lay there with her finger in his ass as he did much of the work.
The MILF had lustful eyes for the runt. But he wouldn’t make a suitable boyfriend because of his age. Rather, “I want you to meet someone.” She said as she picked his hair with a comb. “Can you drive yourself here this weekend?” Bitch nodded.
Friday evening, she introduced him to her 20-year-old daughter. Ugh, she had a body that belonged to the streets. But she was autistic. She talked a lot! They hit it off.
Two years later, the mom passed away. She didn’t share with Bitch about her terminal illness. And she didn’t tell him he was two scratch-outs on her bucket list.
Have charity sex with an eyesore
Hitch Barbera with the eyesore as an epic catchback
Bitch was black. Her ex-husband didn’t like them niggas. Do the math.
The youthful couple inherited fifty million dollars after they were married. He threw a party five days a week! Topless waitresses, free drugs, bartenders, and a baby oil-filled jacuzzi were common sights.
Unfortunately, they went broke a year later. In the end, they separated. She moved in with her pimp, a guy Bitch introduced her to at a party. And he ended up in a motel room next to mine, selling meth and crack.
“A full circle, huh?” I said to him.
“Yeah, but I had a good ol’ time!” he replied. As I sipped my pint of moonshine, I felt something cold against the side of my stomach. I looked down and saw the barrel of a pistol. “Now, call me a bitch again,” he said.
Ugh.
About four months after I met Bitch, I told this other kid, who was 19, “Get a fucking job, you little pussy!” He did.
After eight months of wage slaving, Little Pussy’s boss had a party at a bowling alley. There, he met one of his coworkers’ sisters. She was 17 and about to have a birthday. They hit it off. They got married and had three kids.
Six years ago, I told this 22-year-old, “Get a fucking job, punk-ass curry-looking motherfucker!” And so he did.
After a year of wage slaving, Punk Ass Curry-Looking Motherfucker met his manager’s niece. She came by with her mother to drop off an invitation to a wedding. They hit it off and exchanged numbers. She invited him to the celebration of lovers. He accepted.
A half a month later, as he’s driving to the wedding, a UFO hovered over him. That Motherfucker and his car vanished. No one heard from him since. But investigators found his head floating near the Andaman Islands. Raman Bageecha Beach, to be exact. They believed he was abducted and later beheaded by aliens from out of space.
The moral of this sharing is simple. Get a job, tolerate wage slaving, and take the chance. Whining all day while avoiding reacting to my legendary threads illustrates a picture of the kind of loser you are. I discharge logs of gems that enlarge eyes from the foids larping here. Some of these sad little bitches shake their heads and think, “Either these guys are this stupid, or they’re not real people.”
You faggots are lazy! It’s like you want another man to hold your hand and bring you into a room that has a TikTok trend lying on the bed, butt-naked. “Go get her, tiger.” He says and slaps your hind. You wiggle your scrawny, nasty ass out of your Walmart jeans and climb into bed. “You’re welcome.”
Here's a reality check, though. The other guys in this manosphere are getting laid. They DO NOT want you to touch a woman, ever! Of course, it would be those faggots private messaging you not to comment or react to my legendary threads. They don’t want you to ascend above them. My advice: forget about it.
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