homophobes are just pissed because they can't get laid

one of their finest

becoming a man

ever since i was a little boy i didn't want to grow up to be a man

men were arseholes. men behaved like wild animals. men ate like pigs. they were selfish bastards who satisfied nothing but themselves. uncaring, violent and angry. bad lovers who take what they want, dump their load then roll over and go to sleep 

my father was the perfect role model of what role not to model myself on. he was a cunt and did nothing but reinforce the opinion of men i had grown up with.

i was determined not to be one of them

as a teenager growing up in the 90s you moved with the trends. grunge was easy to adopt - the white kid's revolt against their middle class upbringing. being a poor kid the grunge fashion was easy to adopt. i already ready wore shitty clothes. there was no irony in my ironic t-shirt, it was just the crap i ended up with. 

then punk in the mid-90s because of the fucking incredible music. shorter. faster. louder. hopefully with a message. if i was going to be a man, then i would be educated and i would be different. i can't stop being an angry young man but i would use my angry powers for good. i attended protests. i loudly defended the the weak, the oppressed, the minorities.

"i'll never call it Uluru," my grandfather said over the dining table, "it will always be Ayer's Rock to me."

"are you fucking kidding me!?!" that breakfast had been quite a calm affair until i threw down my spoon in a tantrum and tore into my 'white invasion of 1788' rant.

of course i wasn't always sympathetic. some radical feminism had worn me down. "dead men don't rape" a widely used slogan that was disappointing because they're admitting they had just given up on their cause altogether and resorted to threats

so the front was "dead men don't rape" and on the back was "dead women can't cry rape". it was not a very popular shirt, but i wore it around my hometown for a few weeks much to the anger of the local yokels.

as i got older, in my late 20s i learned being the sensitive male means fuck all. it gets you nowhere. women are still attracted to arseholes and nice guys get fucked over just as much as the mean ones mamma warned me about. 

now in my early 30s i discover that's not what anyone wants anyway. they want the rough mean son of a bitch that occasionally shows a bit of kindness but really treats them like shit most of the time. 

especially gay men. 

when i started as a manwhore i was conscientious, agreeable and kind. i wasn't screwing them for extra charges and i treated the job (and them) like a genuine business. now, 17 years later into being a cock-for-hire, i've learned men want to be treated like shit. they want to be used. they want to think you're screwing them then pissing off and blowing all your cash on crack

i was fucking a client. he likes to be slamfucked so now i've hit 100kgs i can slamfucked him until his ass caves in. i did. i slammed him. i blew. in a pool of sweat i slid off of him and rolled onto my back. he loves hair men so he curled up into my armpit and started sucking on my beard and grooming it. i closed my eye to enjoy it then heard this horrific noise, like a walrus choking on a penguin, and my eyes snapped open. suddenly the client was sitting on the other side of me

what the fuck happened? my eyes were a bit squinty and my teeth were a bit numb, sure signs that i had fallen asleep. therefore that horrific noise was me, snoring.

"did i fall asleep?" he nodded. "oh. i wasn't asleep for long was i?"

"well…" he looked at the bedside clock. i was afraid to look. "rest if you need to."

so through my work i begun to give them what they wanted, and in turn, learned that carrying that into my private works a charm. i have become an arsehole. 

when i go out i behave like a wild animal. i stand pissing in full view of everybody i've begun drunkenly swearing at and men flock to me like whores to a crackpipe

as i get older and bigger and jab steroids in my bum i eat like a pig. the client request i be a violent, angry and uncaring. a sexist racist selfish bastard who fucks them, satisfies himself and leaves

now, and this is definitely due to the drugs and weight gain, i fuck like a machine, blow my load then roll over and go to sleep. in the following weeks i did this 4 more times - falling asleep on clients then waking up to the sound of my own snoring. they loved it. they thought it was so hot that they just got their arse pummelled by a pig of a man who fucked them like a bitch then rolled over and went to sleep

i have made it now. i have become a man

i was gonna post Propagandhi's Refuse to be a man, but i like this track better. doesn't the voice of Noam Chomsky just get you all wet inside?

the 10 worst orgasms ever filmed

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gays of christmas past, present and future

i had to join a gym while i was gonna be in town and lose everything i'd been painfully sticking needles in my arse to gain. naturally i'm a lazy cunt and joined the closest gym - Fitness First @ King's Cross

everyone knows Fitness First are cunts. absolute money grubbing cunts. still, i joined them. a sparsely fitted gym with new yet poorly maintained equipment where the handles peeled off machines that were falling apart. the music is fucking awful - cheap dance tracks with adverts jammed in every 5 minutes.

the only positive about this place is the view. you get to work out looking out over King's Cross and see the Harbour and Bridge in the distance. far better than the view inside the gym - nothing but cruising homosexuals that either stare like a deer in your headlights or quickly dart away pretending they were never looking in the first place. there was the occasional 'roid monkey, but this was a gym for people to be pretty.

it was full of the pretty gays. because this used to be my area when i lived in sydney up until 18 months ago i knew all these faces. this gym was a reminder of every man i had rejected and every man that had rejected me in the past 10 years of living in Sydney. the gay ghosts of christmas pasts haunting me over the bench press.

the main difference now was i was much bigger and much meaner looking than before. so those who had rejected me were now keen. though time had not been kind to some and i was no longer interested, to the others i would simply hold a grudge. "you know what, you had your chance…"

however, if they were hot...

the only exciting thing that happened was having a porn star in the house one day. Erik Rhodes (or James, if you read his really funny blog) was in Sydney doing a few shows over the big gay weekend. he is 6' and half million feet tall with really rosy cheeks so he stands out. he was working alone with everyone else playing it cool. but the moment he turned his back the girls would start flapping "oh my god! oh my god! oh my god! ooh!"

it was funny and kind of sad to watch. i'm not sure why they didn't have the balls to go up and say hi, instead pretending it was nothing special. my friend that i was training with eventually noticed, pointed and gasped "oh my god that's that porn star! i wank off to him all the time!"

i looked over to James who had seen my friend point, but before i could give an embarrassed smile and nod a simple 'hi' by means of an apology for my friends slightly uncool outburst, he looked away and got back into the exercise. i wanted to say 'hi' and not mention the porn but instead say something about his fucking hilarious blog (that i hope is him taking the piss out of himself. maybe he is that clever?). there's some great music on there as well that adds some cred to the typical gay-ass dance tracks

http://erikrhodes.blogspot.com/

http://erikrhodes.tumblr.com/

occupy - counting bodies like sheep

due to the recent 'Occupy' protests i've been a little obsessed with this track lately

i fully support the global Occupy movement even though i haven't been to a protest in almost a decade. the last attempt was joining the Slut Walk. but we missed it and stumbled into a beat instead. i got my cock sucked in the roomy disabled toilet so i guess i showed my support

what pisses me off is gay men supporting the police's brutal methods of removing the protesters who think they don't really have a right to be such a 'public nuisance'. gay men who seem to take for granted the comforts, equality laws and rights they now have that were fought for by smelly loud immature lazy protesters over 30 years ago

some americans don't even realise it's a global movement with protests happening in many countries. no doubt portrayed in the media as a freak minority of whiny uni students and makes me think back to this song and cute little video

WHORE OFF!!!

not all jobs are sunshine lollipops and rainbows. sometimes you even get hired by other escorts. that can be shaky territory. 

are they just seeing how you operate?

are they trying to score some tips?

are they checking out the best in town? well, fuck, of course…

some will be up front and tell you they're an escort form the beginning (and sometimes want to 'exchange' services). some will wait until the end. some probably won't say it at all

"i get hired by other masseurs," my friend said yesterday as we sat sitting in the sun by the pool. two manwhores kicking back by the local pool on a wednesday lunchtime while all the other suckers are in their 9 to 5 jobs. "sometimes they want to exchange massages. they give me a massage first, then i give them back an equal or a really crap massage. crap by my standards. i'm not giving away my secrets!"

i was hired by another escort in Sydney. i tell him i only accept cash and that i will see him in 2 hours. i was skeptical, not because he was an escort, but because in all his emails and texts his spelling was fucking atrocious. missing letters. missing words. sentences making no sense at all. this all equals one thing - crackhead

still it was a daytime job not far from where i was staying. i get to the hotel. 2 minutes before i get to the elevators he send a text. "i wasn't able to get the cash yet. can we cancel or postpone for later."

"no. i am already at the hotel. i can't alter my plans."

i have his room number, but unfortunately i need a card for the lift or get reception to buzz me up by calling the room. 

"give me your bank details and will transfer the money into your account."

sure. i am going to text my bank details to someone, then trust them to be true to their word and pay up? not fucking likely. there's a tedious exchange of more messages - angry texts from me demanding he answer his phone - indecipherable texts from him 

so what do you do when you get fucked over? although prostitution isn't illegal in Australia, it's not like i can call the cops and demand he cough up money. it's not like i have any right to get him to pay on the basis of a verbal agreement. so what do you do? do you suck it up, avoid a confrontation and just dismiss the inconvenience? do make a confrontation, teach the cunt a lesson and hope he'll never do it again, or worse, make trouble for you in the future?

i choose confrontation for $250, thanks Mr Trebek

i decide to be own hired goon. i straightened my shirt, tear up a smile and chat up some old ladies in the lift area, "oh, after you madame… mademoiselle " they blush and swipe their cards and from memory any card can get you to any floor of this hotel

i knock on the door of room 432. i hear shuffling inside and it abruptly stops. i knock again and he shuts the music off

"i can hear you. open the fucking door."

he shuffles a little bit more then opens the door and pretends there is nothing wrong and invites me in.

"okay. so what are your bank details. i can transfer the cash for you later." he sits down at his desk and looks up at me with expectant but wild chem-crazy eyes.

he is very different from his profile claiming to be an 'aussie bloke' with all the pics of him in footy shorts. with none of the musculature of his pictures and none of the masculinity he claims to posses he skulks around the hotel room like and effeminate and emaciated version of the singer from the Pet Shop Boys. he's fucking rotten and abides by the look of an early 90s gay. no doubt from the meth, he's so thin and sickly looking you question if he's barely two T-cells to rub together

"no. you will give me cash. you had hours of warning and you leave it too late to cancel."

"i have a new credit card. i don't have the PIN yet. so i couldn't use the car at an ATM. i had get to a branch to activate it-"

"there's one around the corner on the next block"

"that's too far! i'm not going that far! i'm too wired! i'll call the front desk and see if they'll give me a cash advance on my card." he calls them. unsurprisingly they decline. "i have the money. i'll transfer it into your account later."

with each response i would lean in. considerable taller and meatier and heavier. i was slowly pushing the intimidation. "i'm not giving you bank details and no one is foolish enough to believe a cracked out hooker is going to stick to his word and transfer money." i leaned over the desk 

"why don't you believe me? money is no problem for me. i have the money. you can see i'm in a $400 a night hotel. i'm a very successful escort, thank you! i made thousands on a job last night alone."

"you're a very successful hooker and yet you have no cash on you. no cash at all." i slowly moved around the desk to tower over him. "i don't want the full fee for the hour. all i want is $20 for the cab fare. you don't have $20"

"yeah that's right."

remember my tips from months ago - say nothing. depending on the situation people will either assume the best or the worst. in this case, looking up between my newly acquired set of meaty hairy disco-tits, he feared the worst. if only gynocomastia had settled in i could have roughed him up with a little man-boob motor-boating as well

"i'll get dressed and you can come with me to the bank and get you your money." he sprung up and got dressed, bitching and rambling about trust. he was trying to bait me now. he was trying to start an argument. 

i stood back and folded my arms. "damn, nigger! you're arms look big in this t-shirt! all the better to intimidate this crackhead, my dear…" i thought as he blabbered on. he baited. baited and baited. he was now completely dressed and grabbed his wallet. then stood there. i raised one eyebrow "well," it said, "come on. let's go."

"you know, i don't like your attitude! forget it! i'm not giving you any money at all!"

seems to me like we got a good ol' fashioned whore-off happening. WHORE OFF!!!

that's when i tore in and stomped towards him "no shit motherfucker! you're so fucking cracked out of your mind you think your bullshit is convincing. no one is that fucking dumb! your scrawny boney little ass was NEVER were going to cough up any money at all!"

he sat back down at the desk to emphasise he was not going to go anywhere. "how long have you been an escort for?"

"17 years. since i was a teenager" i think he was expecting me to say a month or two. "you?"

"i've been doing it for 5 years now. i think you really need to learn how to trust and treat people with respect"

"respect? you're going to lecture me an courtesy and respect?"

"i'm calling security!" he dashed over and picked up the phone receiver "yeah his i need security to my room. i have trouble with someone who won't leave my room." he put the phone down. his boney little fingers twitching a little with the pressure of the situation. when i didn't move, this time he raised his gay plucked eyebrows expecting my to leave

i charged in to lean overt the table to call his bluff. "you didn't call anyone! you didn't press the fucking button to speak to reception! you dump fuck!" he said nothing. i looked at the time. it was now ten minutes past the hour. i backed down. lowered my voice and smiled a little "right. that's 10 minutes.  it took me 10 minutes to get to this hotel and i've now inconvenienced you for 10 minutes. that's all i wanted." i smiled and turned to walk out "oh," i reached into the mini bar and grabbed a hand full of the cute little bottles of belvedere vodka 

"i don't care take them all! money is no problem for me!" he shouted

SP - Whore Off from unforgiven on Vimeo.

2 weeks later toward the end of my stay in Sydney i got an email from that same escort. "hey mate. keen hire you for an hour or two?"

it's sunday but i'm not going to church

"i'd rape that!"

it was now week 3 on the juice. the first 2 weeks had turned me into a sloth. i could eat. i could train. then i'd sleep 18 hours a day

"your body is growing. you need rest"

grow it did and with the help of a little water retention i gained 4Kgs in the first week. soon i could reach my goal of getting those meaty rolls of skin that over-sized muscle guys get on the back of their necks. i don't care what you think. i think it's hot.  beefcake! BEEFCAKE!!!

i'd adjusted to the drugs. i'd adjusted to the weight gain. now i'd adjusted to being back in Sydney so now i was free to enjoy the side effect of steroids every man loves - rampant out of control libido. Sydney, and more specifically the suburb of Darlinghurst, is the perfect place to unleash the dogs

going out is always an unsuccessful way for me to pick up. i just want to have fun with my mates. i can't multitask. so most of the picking up was on Grindr and, more successfully, Scruff. normally being polite and slowly engaging in a little conversation seems the best way to work your way into a hook up. however, Sydney is blunt. therefore i will be too. "hot. wanna fuck?" is a little tacky if not a little trite. i prefer a little flattery with a smattering of shock. 

my pick up line : "I'd rape that"

to my surprise it was immensely successful. there's nothing like the threat of violence to win a man's heart. it's not only sexual violence that is the appeal, but he gets to relax. there's no need to impress or engage in chit-chat. they are relieved of all responsibility, completely. not just responsibility but also choice. all they have to do is get treated like a piece of meat. and maybe whimper a little for my benefit. i like it when they cry a little bit. i really do

this is where men differ greatly from women. most men don't really have to live in fear of being a victim of a violent sexual crime. sure it happens a lot more to men than any statistic would show. due to the embarrassing and emasculating nature of the crime many male-on-male rape causes would go unreported. though many gay men fantasise about it. even some of those who have been the victims of rape in the past still fantasise and wish to experience it again. a good 25% of my work is rape fantasies, abuse and domination. it's something i enjoy

yes. it makes me feel like a man. i real cunt of a man. and i love it!

i don't intentionally want to hurt someone beyond what they could handle. the human body is quite tough and resilient, pay a little attention and you can se how far someone wants to be pushed. there's nothing like overpowering a guy and forcing to his knees. smacking that  dirty cock sucker across the face and variations in pitch you get depending on how wide open their mouth is. the gagging. the choking. that good slimy spit you get from really jamming your cock way to far down their throat. the spit that never quite dries up and you use it as lube to fuck them. 

when you do fuck them, both hands tight around their throat and throwing them down on your cock, over and over. or my favourite now i'm bigger, holding them facedown in a half-nelson, the other arm around their throat while you drill the fuck out of their ass - they can't breathe let alone say stop. bite them on the nape of their neck if they don't keep still. when i've dumped my load, don't let them get up, squeeze them in a bear hug and crush them with my 100kg

see. i'm a sensitive man deep down. i always cuddle a little at the end :)

try it yourself!

a load of Bull

i had to dig into work. it was still my first week in town and you have to grab them while your fresh. the client wants a stud. they don't want slops. so the longer you're in town the more they are likely to lose interest

i also decided to say 'yes' to every job. no matter how close they were. knock 'em out. some may cancel anyway, but once you get a rhythm going it's great. one after the other. a production line. it's sounds bad, but if you're psyched up for it it's quite easy and if all goes well you do a far better job. i get so stirred up that i tear into each one with more passion than i would if they were spaced 2 hours apart. in those 2 hours i;d get hungry. or bored. or i'd see a dog with a puffy tail and forget what it was i was supposed to be doing

today was a sweet old guy i'd seen before. has a partner of many years who i have also had as a client. he tells me this and i pretend to have not drawn the connection between the two of them before. 

we get into it. it's going fine. then things get a bit messy. we stop. he cleans up. we get back into it. things get messy again. he cleans up. he apologises and that's fine. i'm pretty tolerant. you're packing fudge all day you have to expect some casualties. i've heard of other escort being total princesses when they unwittingly unwrap a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, some ending the session completely or one tranny i knew would fine them $50. i allow 3 strikes before it's over. unless it smells. the sight i can tolerate but it's the smell of someone else's cookin' - that i can't stand

we get back into it yet again and i throw him down on his back and fucked the hell out of him in the hope of making him blow before he swings a that inevitable third strike. "oh yes! this amazing! you're a big man! you're a bull!"

"a what?"

"you're a bull. you're a bull of a man."

i had never heard that before and i dare say it's one of the best compliments i have ever had. it turned me on no end. if he wanted a bull. he will get one! i slammed the bejesus out of him. even when things got fudgey for a third time. i looked away. tried to wipe the sight of that weird mustard colour from my mind until he blew

then i carefully withdrew and, like a changing a baby's nappy, i held his ankles high in the air and wrapped the towel around his waist

"what?" he asked "what's wrong. is it..?"

"nothing. you don't need to know," i smiled, "just relax and get in the shower." no doubt he's more embarrassed by the unfortunate situation than i would be angry

things are all good. cleaned up and paid for he's out the door and i have 15 minutes to shower, brush my teeth, change sheets and air out the skank from the apartment. 

the next guy i have never seen before. he called a few days ago and asked a lot of questions. first timer questions. very nervous and almost panicking. these guys need patience and someone to make them feel comfortable or no one is going to any fun

he turned up at the door. he was cute short stocky little guy in his business suit. he comes in breathing heavy and clinging nervously to a bottle of water. 

"hey," i smile "how you doing?"

"hey. yeah. i'm good. yourself?" his eyes darting all over me but quickly jumping to somewhere else in the room. then back. then situation was too much and he'd look away again

"yeah. i'm alright. loving this beautiful sunny weather."

"yeah me too. is it okay if i cancel?"

"what?"

"is it okay of i cancel? can i cancel this appointment?"

"no. you're already here."

"really?"

"no. you can't cancel now"

"-i'm just not… i'm not…"

i speak low and calm and slowly. i even deepen my voice - a great way of commanding people to do what you want. "you were very definite on the phone about what you wanted. is it me? am i not what you expected?"

"no. i mean yes. i mean no you're hot. you're… you're really hot. i'm just…"

he was as nervous as hell. "come here." i take the bottle from his hand and lean in and wrap my arms around him. a hug calms anybody down. his breathing slows down as i pull his cheek onto my chest. "just relax. it's all good." in a few seconds he's calm and smiling. he slowly pulls away and look up and thanks me. everything was okay

then wham! he launches himself on me. arms grabbing at my chest and shoulders and cock before his water bottle even got a chance to hit the ground. "woah! easy!"

he pulls back. "ok. sorry." and he's as calm as a blue ocean. he unbottons his shirt. i take of him mine then WHAM! he leaps on me again!

i let him go for a bit then calm him down and we slowly undress. the second my cock is out he leaps again tearing at me like a tiger tearing the arm off a child stupid enough to reach into it's cage "ah fuck it!" i throw him down on the bed face down and attempt to massage him. i manage 30 seconds before he flips around touches my cock

"oh no!" he screams "this always happens with guys!" and he blows his load. i was a little disappointed because this could have been fun. so i roll him over and start massaging him. he calms down and starts talking. "sorry i haven;t done stuff with guys before. i just get so turned on by men. i just can't hold back. i'm engaged so i'm experimenting now while i can."

"umm… dude... maybe you should hold off getting married."

"well, i already live with my fiance. we've got it all planned. so…"

"yeah but i was married too, buddy," i stretched the truth a little, "i love her but it wasn't right. although she's more than fine with it now. it wasn't cool to do to her."

"oh really?"

"yeah. maybe you should figure things out before going any further."

surprisingly, a fair bit of this job is counselling. no, i'm not qualified but there things guys will tell me that they don't admit to anyone else. without giving any definite advice. my definite advice would be "what the fuck!?! don't ruin this chicks life because you're too embarrassed to admit you like cock!" but you have limited time. you can piss them off and you can't lecture them

the little guy was up, showered and out before i was going to offer him a discount (seeing as how he was there for a total of only 15 minutes). i went out and grabbed a coffee out in the sun. today i'd been a masseur, a counsillor, a butt-wiping nanny and a bull out to stud, i deserved a little fun of my own

1982 - Sydney: Golden City of the Gays

'hom-oh-sessual' - did australians really talk like that only 30 years ago?

in this time being gay was still illegal in most of Australia

the maximum prison sentence for gay sex (buggery) between consenting adults was double the sentence for heterosexual rape

now there's a good gay

"We've always been a diverse and inclusive community, hence our unwieldy LGBTIQ acronym that will eventually include all the letters of the alphabet and Wingdings characters. And as much as I think the rainbow flag is a gaudy mess, it also neatly sums up who we are: a hodge-podge of people who probably clash and look weird side by side. But we fly the banner in unity anyway, knowing not one of us is any preferable than the other. Pride should look like that: all of us so different, but unified as one hot rampaging mess.


The only way you smash stereotypes is to promote diversity, and that doesn't happen when you prop some people up while declaring others less desirable. None of us should feel the pressure to be ambassadors or model citizens, or shoulder the responsibility of representing "our people". In the end, the only people we can properly represent are ourselves."

Qantas CEO Alan Joyce is still a dick, but at least i can call him sister

a great article on homo identity

http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/3658776.html

ginger beard part II

"i have a fantasy that i would like to try too"

"sure. what is it?"

"i have this fantasy that i go to a bar and i've been behaving like a little bit of a show off and i pick up a guy and i bring him home. i've given the impression i want to have sex but when i comes down to it, i change my mind. he gets angry with me and forces me to have sex with him. do you think you can be a drunken angry forceful pig of a man? can you be rough demanding and really selfish in bed?"

wow. it's like she was describing myself right back to me. if i learned one thing from all those tedious after school specials it was 'just be yourself'. this is the role i was born to play! "i sure can. what's your name, baby?"

"Chantelle"

"i'll see you soon, Chantelle"

i was my bits and my beard. no soap. she does want me serving barfly realness after all. maybe i should rub some cigar ash in there too

fighting off the heavy Sydney morning rain i arrive at her apartment. the door slowly opens as if on it's own. he is hiding behind the door. it's certainly build suspense if not incredibly creepy. Chantelle steps out, wig appears first around the edge of the door, then a leg then she extends her hand to invite me in. i follow her inside.  

the few second i walked behind her, the light colour of the blonde wig swaying was a heavy contrast to his dark indian skin. as was the thin slip of a dress so see through you could see his dark slutty knickers underneath and even darker skin underneath that. indeed he was short. a little dumpy. the first vision that popped into my mind was i was about to force rough sex upon the Oompaloompa from Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory dress in drag

oompa loompa 
doo ba dee do
i've got a little tranny for you...

i decide to play it calm at first. as always. if it's a first-time client or they seem shy or inexperienced with the situation, wait until they are fully relaxed before jumping into any character.  i dump my gear on the table and sit beside her on the sofa. it was tough to judge what was nerves and what was her playing the 'coy lady'.

so i ease into the role myself. i lean back and throw an arm over the back of the couch. sitting tall in the seat and imposing myself in her space like it has always belonged to me. i breath in deep, and spread my thighs wide with an exhale that's almost like a groan. "you're a pretty little thing. where are those heels you were wearing earlier in the bar?"

"oh? you want me to put them back on?"

"fuck yeah. go put them on." she giggled and got up. bent over rather glamourously to grab each shoe and stumble almost off-balance to slide each foot inside. Chantelle started to bend down to tie up the straps. she stood up and was about to turn around. "don't turn around. bend over and run your hand up the back of your leg." she did. it was not the most graceful floor show, but it was setting the mood. "now walk slowly across the room, turn and walk back." i started rubbing my crotch as i watched her legs look so much longer in heels

before she notice i stood up and crept up behind her. grabbing her ass with one hand and wrapping my other arm to cup her 'breast'. she stood there and welcomed it but i decided to go with her fantasy, "don't get shy, baby. and and i squeezed her a bit. don't fight me off."

she wasn't fighting me off. so grabbed her by the throat and pushed her up against the wall. her blonde wig jumping about like Miss Piggy in an on-stage tantrum. i leaned in close. "listen you little. don't you tease every man in the bar like you did tonight, prancing around like a little slut. invite me back to your joint and change your mind." i still had one hand around her throat. i wasn't rough but she turned her face away feigning terror. i ran a hand down her side "you've been showing your arse off all night," and then pushed my hand into her crotch  "so now i'm gonna take what's mine, " and slipped a finger between her thighs. "this is what's mine." i leaned in and lightly rubbed my beard against her jaw. "i'm gonna slam my cock into your hole, girl. i'm gonna smash your little pussy into next week."

Chantelle lost it. with my finger rubbing her 'clit', my beard brushing her cheek, my words - she melted. she was moaning. i grind my cock up against her thigh and noticed i was rock hard. it was far too soon for the viagra to work. i was getting off on myself. i breathed heavily into her ear and fingered her. "'feel that little lit. you've fucking like that don't you baby?" i licked her ear. "no you don't" my hand tightened around her throat, "you don't like it. you fucking love it you filthy fucking slut!'

i had her pressed up against the wall for a while. i guess i got a little too rough because every now and then she had to readjust the wig that was sliding off her head. then a deep quiet whisper "get into the fucking bedroom, bitch." i walked behind her. my stride was longer. my hands had unconsciously curled into fists already. i was over-emphasising the slap of my boots on her wooded floors to make myself sound larger and more intimidating that i already was. 

Chantelle sat on the bed and watched me as i slowly stripped off. i sneered at her and then kicked off my boots. she reached for the straps on her heels. "don't you dare take them off," i charged down on the bed and grabbed her ankles threw them in the air forcing her on her back, "i'm gonna fuck you in your slutty heels," and i grind my crotch into her again. the dirty demon of my jeans scratching against her stockings. her moaning and whimpering started again. and wouldn't stop until we were done

i thought i was being far too attentive so i pushed her over, i lay down on my back then grabbed her by the jaw and pushed her face onto my cock. "suck it." in seconds she was jumping up and down in my dick. i added some forced to the back of her head "yeah, suck my cock baby. get that meat right down in your throat. swallow it." the wig was flying back and forth. i really felt like it was raping a muppet face with one hand and fingering her pussy with the other

Fuck the Pain Away sung by Miss Piggy - watch more funny videos      

though quite a distance apart, i decided here little cock was her clit and her cock was her pussy. 

there were mirrors on the cupboard doors so i flipped her over, forced myself on top her her and pulled her head back so she could watch herself and i pulled her knickers off to the side and slowly sink my cock into her 'pussy'.

she loved it. so did i. on a sunday morning where a lot of people are at church i was ass-fucking some Miss Piggy Oompaloompa. having built up on the 'roids for 3 weeks now, my body was huge and my beard was bushy as fuck. i just watched myself drive my full weight down and fuck the guts out of her. i lay down, one arm holding her in a headlock and rubbing my beard into the side of her face slamming my cock into her until i blew my load in her little pussy (well, inside the rubber inside her arse. i know trannies put a lot of effort into their appearance. i don't want to ruin such a romantic evening by spewing my spunk all over her fancy he-she threads).

and like a true selfish aussie male. i collapsed on her. not moving. the hour was up anyway. i was having such a great time i had no problems dumping my load

"oh, that was so hot. can we keep going? how much for another hour?"

we spent the second hour with my fingering her pussy while she sucked and licked the salty sweat from my beard. i was hard again within minutes and fucked her from behind. holding one leg in the air, ankle jiggling about with the forsce of my ass fucking and weight of the high heel. she watched herself get herself off. Chantelle loved it. she tipped and quickly got out of there before her family turned up to take her out for sunday lunch

i'm a tranny fucker. i'm a dirty filthy tranny fucker. and i fucking loved it!

apologies for the momentary break

will be back soon so please let this entertain you until then