It is said the road to perdition is paved with good intentions. I’m afraid i’m about to become a poster boy for this saying very soon. My end is nigh but if I’m to serve as a cautionary tale I’d rather it be in my own words for the sake accuracy. You see I’m not a relationship expert, I don’t do counseling. That’s the sphere of shrinks. However, my magnanimity disposes me to offer my assistance in whatever way possible when it is sought. My efforts towards that end are not always appreciated and the circumstances that led to me being a marked a man are a testament to the unthankful nature of homo sapiens.
A lady colleague turned to me recently with her marital woes. To my credit I did warn her that I’m no guru in matters marriage having yet to encounter a lass crazy enough to gaol my ass for the rest of her existence. She insisted though, saying another colleague who has graced my coital abboitre had spoken highly of my slaughter skills. This perked my interest, I do indeed know a thing or two about inducing multiple orgasms. Now we were in Mofeas zone, I was all ears.
Apparently her hubby of a few years was stale and monotonous in bed. He was a one trick ninja solely versed in the kendo technique of stab, stab, stab, collapse. She wanted to take charge but her inexperience in the coital arts prior to marriage meant she had no idea how to spice things up. She was also not about to ask for help from her girlfriends since that would be akin to issuing a press release on her deficiencies – her words, not mine. She needed discretion and had decided she could only confide in and find succor from yours truly. I couldn’t help but oblige after such a passionate plea, at last my porn stash was going to be an educational aid apart from serving its higher purpose of as a fap aid.
I took sweet little missy to class ardently. I was determined to make make a bedroom warrior princess out of her. I took her through literature studies ranging from 50 Shades of Grey and Cosmo to the Kamasutra. We had marathon sessions on premium Pornhub and old school role play porn, you have to know how to instigate a rough pounding from mundane activities like doing the dishes. I had her doing pilates, kegels and gag reflex control routines till she was doing things to a banana that would amount to criminal abuse of flora. Boy was she a good student! In a fortnight’s time she could comfortably accommodate my king sized kong down her throat and look sexy as fuck as she swallowed every drop of jizz she’d coaxed out my grapes with her skillful tongue.
After running the gamut of all her orifices, I felt my work was done. I was such a proud tutor. I issued my seal of approval with a good rimming and reluctantly with a tear in my eye and a throb in my gonads gave her power to practice all that pertains to her new prowess on her husband, the lucky bastard! I felt good about myself, no one would ever say I have never done a selfless act after that.
Next morning, I’m in the office bright and early eagerly awaiting feedback. Madam walks in looking disheveled and out of sorts. I take that as a good sign, she must have rocked ninja’s world a good one yester night. Then the saga unfolds. So ninja had come prepared for his usual swordplay but he had another thing coming. Madam had taken over and unleashed her new found kata moves, this wasn’t going to be the usual one man show. Ninja was surprised at first but soon seemed to take it in his stride, after all no one can resist the linguini executed with a touch of reverse cow girl. In fact ninja was putting up a decent fight for once. His sword was miraculously transformed from a weak alloy to one made of valayrian steel. It endured bravely for four rounds only finally honorably bowing out when madam sheathed it in her posterior outpost, hemispheres it had hitherto never experienced. Ninja was thoroughly worn out but spotting a stupefied grin by the end of that pelvic combat. As they lay there panting, he sat up all of a sudden and grabbed madam. She was pleasantly surprised still revelling in her afterglow thinking another round was forthcoming, but woe unto her.
She was served three abrupt kumanyoko slaps. Apparently, it had just occurred to ninja that her transformation from expert in kifo cha mende to Nefertiti come to life could not be a miracle. He went ape shit cray on her demanding to know where she had learnt the extreme stingos she had just pulled on him and self preservation led her to blurt out that I was responsible complete with my address. She was walloped a good one and last she had seen ninja he was assembling an arsenal of crude weapons while singing war songs and chanting the various varieties of heinous acts he was going to perpetrate on my person before dispatching me to my maker.
I’ve been forced into hiding hoping reason will eventually prevail and he’ll understand that I was actually doing him a pro bono service. In the meantime, I can’t go back to my day job so I’m offering coitus improvement classes for y’all lasses stuck in missionary land. All you have to do is feed me and hide me. A man’s got to eat and if i’m to die then i’ll have done my bit for society. Holla.
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I have a married friend. Just one. Yes, we’re just friends… I have this rule. An anti-married men rule. It’s not because I’m particularly moral, we all know I’m not. (If I was hung on a tree I’d be a Christmas whorenament) My rule is as a protection. Everyone knows that married men are the biggest heart breakers!
80% of my girlfriends are dating or have dated married men. I realized this a few months ago and it’s led to my questioning thoroughly my friend picking techniques. Am I attracted to people that have no respect for the institution of marriage? We all know I don’t believe in cultural or governmental ties to a person. Was it birds of a feather or nah?
Then I realized this, ‘good girls’ are also magically drawn to the taken guy. The allure of a commitment phillic guy is universal. We all want this ‘supposedly’ loving and responsible guy for ourselves. In this age of guys picking PlayStation 4, Xbox, iPhones, Subarus and hipster events over their rachet begotten offspring, who could blame us? Responsible men are a black grain in an ocean of white sand.
I thought I’d found the answer for sure. That we’re just deprived of good men and we must inevitably fight in the ulimate competition, for the few good ones! Whomever cannot keep her ‘prize’ happy must suffer the consequences of losing him to a more worthy opponent. All’s fair in love and war. This was war.
(cue in evil laughter)
There was a thought hanging on for dear life at the edge of my consciousness. My mind was made up, I had my answer – women are predatorial beasts fighting for the only chunk of good meat amongst tonnes of rotten flesh… – but there was this idea that refused to let go. A troubling question that sent me digging.
What of those girls that got lured into these traps without ever knowing of his marital status? They didn’t know of his responsible nature or his propensity for commitment, so why were these girls enough in number to warrant a thought into different theory?
Well, my research showed me the light!
Girls. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!!!
You are not the sluts in this thing! Your judgement isn’t flawed! Our generation isn’t just a bad one. WOMAN! You are not conditioned to be a second wife!
MAN. Your kind isn’t all bad with a few genetically modified good specimen. Nah…you’re just evil, using a natural law of nature against the females of our species.
Once a man is hitched, that faint smell of desperation that hung on him during his bachelor days disappears. He’s got regular pussy, a constant companion, someone required by government and society to love him even when it’s near damn impossible for even his mother to. When his balls start aching for offspring he’s got a willing womb at his disposal, ready and willing to bear him heirs to his beaten down jalopy. Ah! The wonder that is marriage.
The married man does not need you hussies. He’s got his beloved building a home to go back home to. He may not need you but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you.
For the first time in his life women are flocking towards him, he doesn’t know why (I do) but he’s not wasting the opportunity to prove to himself and his boys that he’s still a major stud. He isn’t. So what’s happening?
He is simply no longer desperate.
Women love this! Men are always such sniveling pigs, coming after every skirt with the drool hanging precariously from their lower lips, threatening to land on our bodacious backsides with a shake of their heads. The taken man does none of this disgusting drooling after women. His calm and confident demeanor often has women doing the chasing after him. He has that bad boy ‘I got bitches’ aura. We can’t resist it.
We are all attracted to the taken man. I won’t deny it and you shouldn’t either. For the majority of women, finding out that he’s someone else’s immediately turns the attraction off. He becomes disgusting to think about. Others don’t have that luxury of an off switch though…either they do not have it, and lucky are they to feel no guilt after the inevitable married man freaky dicky happens OR they weren’t given the chance to use the off switch at all! We all know married men do not like to admit they’re unavailable. It’s a cruelty I tell you! To deny a poor woman the chance to tell you no, and leave her the guilty mess that’s an involuntary home wrecker! Tsk tsk!
Stop doing this btw. You are being Hitler on small scale. It’s not nice to ruin a woman’s psyche for the purpose of ego building. If you must have an affair, do so with a willing female. If there are none then sex workers exist for just this purpose. Tafuta langa akugawie. It’s not that hard to find a willing fuck aye.
Here’s a good new year’s resolution for all our readers to follow, BE A BETTER PERSON Start with telling babes you’re taken you incorrigible flirt!
I think it’s time we dropped this charade. It’s getting older than Moi’s nose hairs and it may earn us men some much needed respite. We have been accused, we have plead not guilty on numerous accounts but have been convicted none the less, even when the charges belonged to the next man. I’d like to throw myself at the mercy of the court when I admit that, all men are dogs. Yes. All of us. Filthy, horny, dogs. We couldn’t keep it in our pants even if it meant World Peace (which it probably does :-/). From your Dad to that silent guy who is always hunched over his computer at work (someone should look into that guy, I think he’s watching porn). We are dogs. Come on ladies, the writing was on the wall, we even gave you a little hint. A dog is man’s best friend. Who said, “Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are”? He was talking about man and his doggy mate.
Why choose to be a dog? You may ask, well, it’s because we can. Simple. There’s not a more selfish, insensitive and callous animal than the male of the human species. We were not created with a caring bone in our bodies. Caring was just implied in the Creator of the Universe manual. Females on the other hand are blessed with being able to bring forth life, hence are natural care-givers. Save us the guilt trip, those are the sort of characteristics necessary for us to be hunters and conquerors, so that the family could eat and we could have dominion over nature, just as the good Lord intended. If we cared about monogamy and the sanctity of life and all of that ethical crap, the human species would have died out ages ago. This also comes with some baggage, as most men, by default, don’t give a shit about female emotions. Only what they harbor in between their thighs.
It’s all a game of who can pierce the most pussies in a single lifetime. A game most men are more than willing to take part in. Other men are less than enthusiastic about our hunger games, because society decided to create morals. Now its frowned upon if I shag 10 girls while having someone at home. I forgot to tell them about her! You try declaring your marital status to her while she’s all wrapped up around you, moving under you, when you’re completely taken by thick thighs with tears in your eyes (this shit even rhymes, that’s how right it is!) That girl will turn into a raging bull so fast!!! If you manage to hold on and keep your dick inside her during the bucking, it’ll be the fuck of your life!!! Better be worth it though, because she will find your wife. Divorce, ostracism, half your wealth gone… Woe unto you if you get caught cleaning the maid’s pipes! Hitler never died people, he just lived on in form of this nonsense.
Now, since I feel for all you dogs out there, I did some research and some baking and found a way for you to have your cake and eat it too. Want to be a dog and still keep the wifey around? ‘;o Well, beat her with the same stick she beats you with. I mean fuck her into submission. Yes, there’s such a thing. This theory brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “fuck her brains out”. Scientists contend that an extraordinarily intense orgasm can cause temporary memory loss. Anything that powerful can always come to your aid because even if the memory loss is temporary, the effects are permanent. How many women have you ever heard confess that they want to leave their philandering men but can’t because, and I quote, “The D is too damn good”? It’s what shackles them to the relationship.
When they say good D, they mean toes curling, blindness causing, failure of motor functions inducing, mother’s maiden name calling good D. The type she has to ask which year it is afterwards. The type that leaves her muttering nothingness into the pillowcase, twitching. Never underestimate the power of good Dick. Since you’re in trouble for doing the same to other innocent victims, you might as well pick up the experience from your away games to please the home crowd.
I won’t stand here and preach that this is the miracle cheat for all you horny bastards, but it’s damn sure going to create some breathing space for you. You just need her to have a reason to hold on to your sorry ass. Plus treat her like a queen. Even if she thinks you’re cheating, the ethereal sex and a dozen of roses you sent to her mother, will confuse the fuck out of her.
And even before the jury reaches a verdict of whether or not you’re guilty in the matter of the state vs your libido, their minds have already been swayed by how many times you made them all cum. And that gentlemen, is how you get away with murder, I rest my case.