Post by Crazy Chris on Nov 6, 2019 21:42:02 GMT -6
“I am often thought of as being remarkably bright, and yet my brains, more often than not, are busily devising new and interesting ways of bringing my enemies to sudden, gagging, writhing, agonizing death.” ~Alan Bradley
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I smile down at my phone at the message ButterflyGirl6 has just sent me. We’ve been talking in that getting to know you to see if we’re compatible lingo for the past three nights, and tonight looks like we’ll graduate to dirty talk. Perfect.
Her profile says she’s looking for Mr. Right, and I honestly wouldn’t mind playing that part for the right woman. But so far tonight, her flirty tone suggests she’s looking for Mr. Right Now. And I’m completely down with that scenario too.
She’s asked me what I’m wearing. She wants to know my favorite positions. She’s curious if I can go all night long.
We moved on pretty quickly from the hobbies-and-interests portion of the chat, but hey, I’m not going to complain. With all the shit that has went down with Dan over the past week, I need something to take my mind off from wanting to beat Dylan Thomas’ ass. Texting this woman is definitely the way to go about that, even if it’s for a brief moment.
The last message she sent is her cell phone number, along with a note saying Let’s take this to text, if you know what I mean. Oh yes, I do, you sexy little butterfly. I know exactly what you mean.
After working my ass off to continue building my company for the past year, I’m a man on the edge. I’ve spent the past few years going back to school and getting a degree. When you keep “retiring” from wrestling, you have to have some financial security besides going from job to job. I have my limits, and the desire to pillage and plunder my way through the Nashville singles scene is a sharp throb of need that can’t be contained any longer.
With one of the biggest opportunities of my life coming up, you might think I should focus on buckling down and stop chasing that wonderful warm spot between a woman’s thighs. And the thing is, you’d be right.
It’s just…
This dry spell can’t go on, and that’s why I’m scrolling through that dating app—you know the one. It’s not even really for dating. It’s for hookups. And while that’s not usually my style, Exhibit A is the monster in my pants demanding to be fed, so I’m willing to make some adjustments, both literally and figuratively.
But, hey, I’m also a big believer in giving a woman what she wants. And this woman, this sexy, flirty, naughty ButterflyGirl6—who I’ve been chatting with for the last three nights via a dating app—has asked for a dick pic.
Look, I’m going to be blunt here. I’ve never taken a dick pic before. It’s not that my second-favorite organ isn’t photo worthy. It absolutely is. It’s a goddamned work of art, if I do say so myself. But I still haven’t captured its glory on candid camera. It’s just that, well, dick pics are a little uncool. Right?
Generally, I pride myself on being a gentleman when interacting with women. And maybe I’m a little old-fashioned.
Sure, I get that sexts and dirty pictures are part of the dating scene these days, but I’ve found that there are few true surprises left anymore and undressing a woman you’ve never seen naked before and exploring every inch of her body is one of them. I’d presume the same applies to a lady. So, I do enjoy leaving that aspect of dating until, you know, the actual date.
From my spot on the leather couch in my spacious living room, I slide down my boxer briefs, my cock already conveniently in a semi state. And let me tell you, I look pretty damn good already.
Here we go. Time to lose my dick-pic virginity.
I hold the phone a foot or so above the goods and snap a couple of shots, hoping they do the trick. How hard can it be—pun intended—to capture a great shot of a great cock?
Settling myself on the bed against the headboard, I smile. My white duvet will make the perfect backdrop for the photo. There’s nothing to compete for attention with my junk. Impressive as it is, I don’t need anything distracting from the mood I’m trying to set for ButterflyGirl6. And that mood is—at your service, come and ride me all night long.
I know what you’re thinking. How could I be worried about sex when my brother is in the condition he is in? It’s been almost a week and he is still affected by the attack from Dylan and his goons. It’s simple. He’s stable and home. He’s actually resting in the next room, but I have to focus on taking my frustrations out. What better way to do that than with some chick and angry sex?
Chuckling to myself, I shove off my boxer briefs and stare down at the prize. I would have assumed I’d need a few stiff tugs to prep the package, but yet here is my dick, ready to impress our new lady friend.
Note to self—never go four months again without some action. It turns you into a horny teenage boy. Forget the fact I’m a grown-ass man at thirty-five. I have needs. And what I need in this moment? To impress the lovely ButterflyGirl6 so she says yes to my request for a date.
Do I find it a little strange that this woman wants to see my goods before taking a look at my face? Sure, I do. But whatever, I’m flexible.
A quick glance in the mirror above my dresser reveals tanned skin, a five o’clock shadow, and a mess of dark hair that I keep a little longer than I should. Making sure the angle is perfect, I snap a shot. When I check out my camera roll, I have to say I’m pretty impressed with my work.
I hit SEND and toss my phone on my nightstand. I can’t wait for her reply. I’m sure it’ll come any minute.
Any minute now.
Maybe just one more minute.
I check my phone once more. Sadly, it’s still silent. I set it down and head for the shower. When I wander out a few minutes later, toweling off my hair, my phone is buzzing with a reply.
I may or may not have run over to the phone to see what she had to say about the goods. When I slide open the message, though, her response isn’t what I expected at all.
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“It’s definitely instances like this that really bring out the beast inside me. I normally can control my anger, but the brutality that Dylan, TIO, and Lissandra pulled last week was uncalled for. It replays over and over in my head and all I can see is my brother lying on that ground. I don’t like fighting other people’s battles, but you three poked an angry bear and I’m not taking this very lightly…
Dan had nothing to do with this feud. You won your contenders match Dylan, but you put your hands on an innocent man to what? Send a fucking message? Well your message was sent and received and I’m not responding with a smiley face or an angry face. No, I am responding to your message with vengeance. There is no emoji for vengeance, so my hands and fists are going to show you exactly what that emoji looks like…
Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am NOT a man to be fucked with! Dylan Thomas…what you and those fuck-ass goons did to my brother and me last week is unacceptable. You put my brother in a hospital in almost critical condition. Luckily, he is stable and made it out alive. His blood is now on your hands, and I am not going to be very pleasant to be in the ring with come Sunday…
You woke a beast for what you tried to do Dylan. I’m not someone to be messed with and you definitely messed with the wrong family. You think what I almost did to your wife was messed up? Wait till she sees how bad I fuck you up…
I’m not going to lie when I say that I think you’re a beast Dylan. Afterall, you’re the inaugural North American champion. I, however, am the inaugural Unified X Division champion. I have never lost a singles match as champion. Unlike you, I can actually defend and keep a title. Where’s that North American title, Dylan? I could have had another champion versus champion match. I could be the Unified North American X Division champion. Shout out to Deuce, if you’re lucky enough to retain, future title for title match, maybe?
Look at me losing focus. Anyways, Dylan, your sins from last week aren’t going to go unpunished. You think God is forgiving? Well, I am not. Hell is too good for you Dylan, so when I’m done with you…there isn’t going to be anything left for the Devil to fuck you with.
Sunday, Dylan, your ass is mine and I’m not going to take it easy on you. You fucked me over…you fucked my brother over…so Sunday, I am going to fuck you so hard your ass will be split open. And your wife? Well, let’s just say that she won’t have the biggest pussy on the roster…
That is the Gospel of Crazy Chris: Chapter FUCK verse YOU!”
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“Um, can I help you?”
Can I help you? Seriously? What does she mean by this? I responded the only way a raging horny guy even knows how to respond.
“Is that what you wanted, baby?”
Her reply shocked me…
“And goodbyeeee.”
Wait a sec. What just happened here? I thought this is what she wanted? I couldn’t wrap my head around her response, so I decided to get to the bottom of this mysterious response.
“What? Seriously? It’s not that bad.”
“No, it’s not bad at all. But what the hell? Why would you send ANYONE this shot unsolicited?” She texted back.
“Uh, you asked me to send it!”
Her response to that message was clearly not what I thought it would be.
“Ha. Try again buddy. I definitely did not in any way, shape, or form ask for this pic.”
Suddenly it hit me that who I thought I was sexting was NOT the person I thought she was. My face turned red and all I could think of was holy shit!
“Wait. Fuck. You’re not ButterflyGirl6, are you?”
“Who? No. I’m definitely not.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Despite the aforementioned erection, I promise I’m harmless. Please accept this photo of me from the third grade as proof. My apologies.”
“OMG. That just made this entire exchange ten times more awkward.”
“Yeah, I guess it did. Shit. Clearly, I’m not very good at this whole thing.”
“What? Being human?”
“The name’s Chris. Seriously, I’m really sorry.”
“My name’s Peyton. Apology accepted—as long as you don’t whip out that flesh wagon again and assault me with it.”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
I laugh. How sad that this is the most flirting I’ve done in over a year.
“Well, good night then, Chris.”
“Good night, Peyton.”
With those words, our conversation ends. Even though I am embarrassed, I feel better knowing that I made things right. I set my phone down on the nightstand next to my bed. I stare at my ceiling pondering in my thoughts.
Damn! What a night.
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“I know there are people who believe you should forgive and forget. For the record, I'd like to say I'm a big fan of forgiveness as long as I'm given the opportunity to get even first.” ~Sue Grafton
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I smile down at my phone at the message ButterflyGirl6 has just sent me. We’ve been talking in that getting to know you to see if we’re compatible lingo for the past three nights, and tonight looks like we’ll graduate to dirty talk. Perfect.
Her profile says she’s looking for Mr. Right, and I honestly wouldn’t mind playing that part for the right woman. But so far tonight, her flirty tone suggests she’s looking for Mr. Right Now. And I’m completely down with that scenario too.
She’s asked me what I’m wearing. She wants to know my favorite positions. She’s curious if I can go all night long.
We moved on pretty quickly from the hobbies-and-interests portion of the chat, but hey, I’m not going to complain. With all the shit that has went down with Dan over the past week, I need something to take my mind off from wanting to beat Dylan Thomas’ ass. Texting this woman is definitely the way to go about that, even if it’s for a brief moment.
The last message she sent is her cell phone number, along with a note saying Let’s take this to text, if you know what I mean. Oh yes, I do, you sexy little butterfly. I know exactly what you mean.
After working my ass off to continue building my company for the past year, I’m a man on the edge. I’ve spent the past few years going back to school and getting a degree. When you keep “retiring” from wrestling, you have to have some financial security besides going from job to job. I have my limits, and the desire to pillage and plunder my way through the Nashville singles scene is a sharp throb of need that can’t be contained any longer.
With one of the biggest opportunities of my life coming up, you might think I should focus on buckling down and stop chasing that wonderful warm spot between a woman’s thighs. And the thing is, you’d be right.
It’s just…
This dry spell can’t go on, and that’s why I’m scrolling through that dating app—you know the one. It’s not even really for dating. It’s for hookups. And while that’s not usually my style, Exhibit A is the monster in my pants demanding to be fed, so I’m willing to make some adjustments, both literally and figuratively.
But, hey, I’m also a big believer in giving a woman what she wants. And this woman, this sexy, flirty, naughty ButterflyGirl6—who I’ve been chatting with for the last three nights via a dating app—has asked for a dick pic.
Look, I’m going to be blunt here. I’ve never taken a dick pic before. It’s not that my second-favorite organ isn’t photo worthy. It absolutely is. It’s a goddamned work of art, if I do say so myself. But I still haven’t captured its glory on candid camera. It’s just that, well, dick pics are a little uncool. Right?
Generally, I pride myself on being a gentleman when interacting with women. And maybe I’m a little old-fashioned.
Sure, I get that sexts and dirty pictures are part of the dating scene these days, but I’ve found that there are few true surprises left anymore and undressing a woman you’ve never seen naked before and exploring every inch of her body is one of them. I’d presume the same applies to a lady. So, I do enjoy leaving that aspect of dating until, you know, the actual date.
From my spot on the leather couch in my spacious living room, I slide down my boxer briefs, my cock already conveniently in a semi state. And let me tell you, I look pretty damn good already.
Here we go. Time to lose my dick-pic virginity.
I hold the phone a foot or so above the goods and snap a couple of shots, hoping they do the trick. How hard can it be—pun intended—to capture a great shot of a great cock?
Settling myself on the bed against the headboard, I smile. My white duvet will make the perfect backdrop for the photo. There’s nothing to compete for attention with my junk. Impressive as it is, I don’t need anything distracting from the mood I’m trying to set for ButterflyGirl6. And that mood is—at your service, come and ride me all night long.
I know what you’re thinking. How could I be worried about sex when my brother is in the condition he is in? It’s been almost a week and he is still affected by the attack from Dylan and his goons. It’s simple. He’s stable and home. He’s actually resting in the next room, but I have to focus on taking my frustrations out. What better way to do that than with some chick and angry sex?
Chuckling to myself, I shove off my boxer briefs and stare down at the prize. I would have assumed I’d need a few stiff tugs to prep the package, but yet here is my dick, ready to impress our new lady friend.
Note to self—never go four months again without some action. It turns you into a horny teenage boy. Forget the fact I’m a grown-ass man at thirty-five. I have needs. And what I need in this moment? To impress the lovely ButterflyGirl6 so she says yes to my request for a date.
Do I find it a little strange that this woman wants to see my goods before taking a look at my face? Sure, I do. But whatever, I’m flexible.
A quick glance in the mirror above my dresser reveals tanned skin, a five o’clock shadow, and a mess of dark hair that I keep a little longer than I should. Making sure the angle is perfect, I snap a shot. When I check out my camera roll, I have to say I’m pretty impressed with my work.
I hit SEND and toss my phone on my nightstand. I can’t wait for her reply. I’m sure it’ll come any minute.
Any minute now.
Maybe just one more minute.
I check my phone once more. Sadly, it’s still silent. I set it down and head for the shower. When I wander out a few minutes later, toweling off my hair, my phone is buzzing with a reply.
I may or may not have run over to the phone to see what she had to say about the goods. When I slide open the message, though, her response isn’t what I expected at all.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“It’s definitely instances like this that really bring out the beast inside me. I normally can control my anger, but the brutality that Dylan, TIO, and Lissandra pulled last week was uncalled for. It replays over and over in my head and all I can see is my brother lying on that ground. I don’t like fighting other people’s battles, but you three poked an angry bear and I’m not taking this very lightly…
Dan had nothing to do with this feud. You won your contenders match Dylan, but you put your hands on an innocent man to what? Send a fucking message? Well your message was sent and received and I’m not responding with a smiley face or an angry face. No, I am responding to your message with vengeance. There is no emoji for vengeance, so my hands and fists are going to show you exactly what that emoji looks like…
Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am NOT a man to be fucked with! Dylan Thomas…what you and those fuck-ass goons did to my brother and me last week is unacceptable. You put my brother in a hospital in almost critical condition. Luckily, he is stable and made it out alive. His blood is now on your hands, and I am not going to be very pleasant to be in the ring with come Sunday…
You woke a beast for what you tried to do Dylan. I’m not someone to be messed with and you definitely messed with the wrong family. You think what I almost did to your wife was messed up? Wait till she sees how bad I fuck you up…
I’m not going to lie when I say that I think you’re a beast Dylan. Afterall, you’re the inaugural North American champion. I, however, am the inaugural Unified X Division champion. I have never lost a singles match as champion. Unlike you, I can actually defend and keep a title. Where’s that North American title, Dylan? I could have had another champion versus champion match. I could be the Unified North American X Division champion. Shout out to Deuce, if you’re lucky enough to retain, future title for title match, maybe?
Look at me losing focus. Anyways, Dylan, your sins from last week aren’t going to go unpunished. You think God is forgiving? Well, I am not. Hell is too good for you Dylan, so when I’m done with you…there isn’t going to be anything left for the Devil to fuck you with.
Sunday, Dylan, your ass is mine and I’m not going to take it easy on you. You fucked me over…you fucked my brother over…so Sunday, I am going to fuck you so hard your ass will be split open. And your wife? Well, let’s just say that she won’t have the biggest pussy on the roster…
That is the Gospel of Crazy Chris: Chapter FUCK verse YOU!”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Um, can I help you?”
Can I help you? Seriously? What does she mean by this? I responded the only way a raging horny guy even knows how to respond.
“Is that what you wanted, baby?”
Her reply shocked me…
“And goodbyeeee.”
Wait a sec. What just happened here? I thought this is what she wanted? I couldn’t wrap my head around her response, so I decided to get to the bottom of this mysterious response.
“What? Seriously? It’s not that bad.”
“No, it’s not bad at all. But what the hell? Why would you send ANYONE this shot unsolicited?” She texted back.
“Uh, you asked me to send it!”
Her response to that message was clearly not what I thought it would be.
“Ha. Try again buddy. I definitely did not in any way, shape, or form ask for this pic.”
Suddenly it hit me that who I thought I was sexting was NOT the person I thought she was. My face turned red and all I could think of was holy shit!
“Wait. Fuck. You’re not ButterflyGirl6, are you?”
“Who? No. I’m definitely not.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Despite the aforementioned erection, I promise I’m harmless. Please accept this photo of me from the third grade as proof. My apologies.”
“OMG. That just made this entire exchange ten times more awkward.”
“Yeah, I guess it did. Shit. Clearly, I’m not very good at this whole thing.”
“What? Being human?”
“The name’s Chris. Seriously, I’m really sorry.”
“My name’s Peyton. Apology accepted—as long as you don’t whip out that flesh wagon again and assault me with it.”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
I laugh. How sad that this is the most flirting I’ve done in over a year.
“Well, good night then, Chris.”
“Good night, Peyton.”
With those words, our conversation ends. Even though I am embarrassed, I feel better knowing that I made things right. I set my phone down on the nightstand next to my bed. I stare at my ceiling pondering in my thoughts.
Damn! What a night.
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“I know there are people who believe you should forgive and forget. For the record, I'd like to say I'm a big fan of forgiveness as long as I'm given the opportunity to get even first.” ~Sue Grafton
