BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
- Posts
- 23,866
- Reputation
- 27,510
A 22-year-old coach, born into the upper class and privileged, worked at a private high school (tuition cost $26,613 annually) and was a Chad, in his own class of vitality.
He hooked up with his 15-year-old volleyball student. She's an athlete. She, too, is privileged and comes from an upper-class family (tuition costs $26,613 a year).
Believe it or not, and this may stun many of you, as well as my piggybackers, so brace yourself for the shock of your life... I, too, was once a teenager.
Yeah! I know. Did you just stumble into a Twilight Zone or some weird parallel universe has manifested around you without your knowledge? Nope. I really was a teenager many years ago.
I remember the girls my age. Ugh. Boy, do I remember them! ESPECIALLY, them. SMH. There were so many! The mountain of knocks on my door and taps against my bedroom window. And the phone calls! Jeepers Creepers—non-stop. Ring after ring after ring. Sometimes, a party of girls calls me at once. Amazing. You might be wondering, "Gee, big guy, how did you survive that?" Ugh. Luck was indeed on my side.
Anyway, those girls of my era were... here it comes ... parents if you have a teenage girl, you may wish to stop reading now. Here, I'll censor it for you.
Those girls of my era were little whores! Sluts. Roasties. Tramps. Threesome Supporters. Oldcel hunters. But there were a few, maybe, two out of twenty, that didn't slut around chasing Chads like me and my buddies. I usually wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole anyway. Those girls were boring to be around. I preferred the sluts. Guilty! But some of my buddies were assholes and had a Virgin Scorebook. They deliberately hunted virgins. Eventually, we would depart. They turned against me because, well, [[shocker alert]], I was a good guy.
I kept falling in love, and they thought, "Dude, you're a punk. We don't like punks like you. Go be that daddy and watch how fast she becomes a land whale. Lose our numbers, Bitchboy."
Public schools had their roasties, but the schools known for guaranteeing to get laid were always the private and all-girls academies. We all suffered those girls. They were "V-E-R-Y" experienced. So experienced, we even questioned possible mandatory incest customs in their wealthy families. Being 15 and the girl the same age, yet she's bouncing all over the place, switching positions into mind-boggling ones like something you would experience in Twister Sex, and locking her own head in place WITH HER OWN HANDS, yeah, living in Slutville was indeed the life of the teenage Chad.
I'm not supporting young adults engaging in sexual relations with underage teenagers. But unlike the other assholes and dipshits of my age class, I won't pretend I grew up in a fictional reality. I remember everything. I remember the girls telling me about them sleeping with adult men. Furthermore, I remember the stories the rich girls told me about their families. I'll restrict that content from this thread, out of respect for the readers' eyes and imagination. It is too disturbing to type, even for someone like me.
Athlete girls were the sluttiest. They chased Chads, crazypills, and college guys. Oh, did you know, some college guys are 20 and over? Yup. I know, this keeps getting stranger and stranger, uh? Touche.
Mr. Over killed himself after he posted bail on allegations that he raped a 15-year-old student. And how he killed himself was poetic, explaining how this felt. But he didn't rape her once! Multiple times. And get this: before every "rape," she would voluntarily get into his jeep. You would think, "Fool me once; shame on you. Rape me twice; shame on me. But fool me almost every day by my own choosing??" Come on!
This face tells me everything. It shows a profound injury. Betrayal. Confusion. Planning to kill himself because he doesn't want to be That Guy listed as a pedophile rapist for the rest of his life. That face also tells me he believed; he worked hard to get where he's at, and now it's over. Life is done with him. That picture tells the true story.
THE EMBELLISHED STORY:
Volleyball coach accused of raping one of his students kills himself
Jason Maser 'intentionally' stepped in front of a Long Island Rail Road train around 10:30pm Friday night in Syosset, around 30 miles east of New York City.
Last edited:
