I’m a white guy who likes girls of races. But, other than white girls, I don’t have any luck. I am kinda dorky looking and tend to live on the more pale side of life. But, does that mean that I’ll never be able to get my swirl on?
M/19/Hetero
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I’m a white guy who likes girls of races. But, other than white girls, I don’t have any luck. I am kinda dorky looking and tend to live on the more pale side of life. But, does that mean that I’ll never be able to get my swirl on?
M/19/Hetero
By Kevin Knowles
There’s this personal ad I’m writing. It’s aimed towards the kink community, rather than OKC/ POF crowd. I do find it a bit embarrassing to be writing an ad; also to have it so detailed, yet at the same time, I’m not really trying. It’s basically looking for an drunken experience which can happen while sober; chicks making out and junk, but without being able to “blame it on the alcohol”.
Although I didn’t talk much about it on here, I got LTASEX syndicated in my school’s student newspaper about five months ago. Making that happen was a rather awesome moment for me. Unfortunately, that shining moment has come to an end. As of January 8, LTASEX is dead, in the pages of The Eastern Echo.
Bottom Line: If you like penetration of the anal sort and are looking for a powerful yet versatile option at a low price, you can’t do better than The Prowler by Colt.
I know that I tend to be a bit harsh on products, but today I simply can’t. The Prowler is just too awesome.
I really hate Christmas. Sure, somewhere in my jaded alcohol fueled heart I may find some holly jolly. But frankly, unless it allows me to slink away with a bottle of merlot and a pen, I’m generally not interested. This is why, for the fourth Christmas in a row, I find myself sitting alone at the nearest watering hole that keeps its martini’s dry and its boys slutty.
Normally I wouldn’t be so swayed to go out and search for a bit of strange. But, I rather enjoy being around my own kind and Christmas tends to bring out all the damaged and disaffected stoics who share my general disdain for the wretched holiday. You know, the insatiable cynics who can‘t be bothered to muster holiday cheer that isn’t aided by some chemical or another.
Although I’m generally a more of a separatist, I’d much rather congregate with people I have something that share more with me than an unfortunate biological pairing. Plus, I find something very intoxicating about olfactory symphony created by a gin soaked, chain smoking harlot like myself.
Right now, I’m very much enjoying the one created by this racially non-descript supposed twenty-something, who’s really a thirty-something, but he’s cute so I’ll let him have his fantasy. He says his name is Frank, simple enough.