Purple K and Kre-Alkalyn, Are They Worth It?

I have spent considerable time researching supplements and have experimented with many different supplements for cognition, strength and libido, but one supplement that has always been a staple of my stack is creatine. From other work out gentlemen I know, they have always told me about Kre-Alkalyn and Purple K, and had only positive things to say about both creatines. For those who do not know, both of these creatines are essentially the same, but both creatine’s come in pill form and claim to be “buffered.” The process of buffering creatine supposedly makes it more available to your muscles than conventional creatine monohydrate. So after glancing at Kre-Alkalyn’s ridiculous claims that it delivers a billion times more creatine to your muscles or something, I decided to spend the extra $15 dollars on getting Kre-Alkalyn over my regular creatine mono-hydrate powder to test out this supposed wonder-creatine.

So a month goes by while I’m on Kre-Alkalyn, and naturally I am stunned; my arms look fucking massive and I appear to be lifting a lot more than usual. Could this magic pill creatine really be that much better than regular old powdered creatine monohydrate? Well, the science found Kre-Alkalyn to be bullshit, but then why did I get excellent results? Well that paper also notes that Kre-Alkalyn does work the same as creatine, but at lower doses it is less effective, with higher doses of Kre-Alkalyn performing similar to creatine monohydrate. I took the higher does of Kre-Alkalyn naturally assuming that is what anyone who seriously trains needs. In addition, at this time I was experimenting with a higher protein diet as well; that could account for the massive gains.

To be sure of the results published in that paper, after I finished my Kre-Alkalyn/Purple K cycle, I decided to purchase regular old creatine monohydrate after a month of going off of all creatine supplements. I made sure I stuck with a similar diet to when I was on Kre-Alkalyn, and I kept my intake of creatine monohydrate at 20 grams a day. So what the fuck happened? Well, the same fucking thing. To my upset, Kre-Alkalyn was nothing more then an overpriced dud. Not to say that Kre-Alkalyn did not help, but it did nothing more than regular creatine did for me.

I was pretty certain that Purple K was bullshit from the outset, but to be fair it does work, but it does not have any advantage over creatine monohydrate. The only thing I kind of noted was that there was less stomach upset upon taking Kre-Alkalyn/Purple K, but the difference was minimal to the point that paying double the price for this product makes no sense.

LONG LIVE MONOHYDRATE.

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Cigar Review: Partagas Black Label

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My first foray into the Partagas line of cigars was the Presidente, without derailing this review too much, I liked the Presidente quite a bit and have been fond of Partagas cigars ever since. When I was informed that I would be getting to try the Partagas Black Label cigar I was excited as it has been a year since I last touched a Partagas branded cigar. I smoked my Black Label cigar soon after I got it, and while I enjoyed it, I could not recommend it to a casual or amateur cigar smoke; this cigar is the definition of bold tobacco in a full bodied package. Thick smoke and excellent burning time, but not as flavoured as some might expect.

When I received my Black Label cigars, they did not come packaged in anything distinctive – simply plastic wrapped and bare. The cigar is accompanied by an eye catching band, using gold accents, with a black base and white lettering. The first thing you will notice about the cigar itself is that it is very thick and sports a dark brown wrapping. The bare minimum packaging is probably attributed to the fact that these cigars came from their original box. Of course, as a smoker you should not base your entire opinion of cigars on the packaging, but for the sake of this review, I think you the reader, should know all aspects of the cigar at hand. Regardless, both Black Label cigars that I received cut nice, and the wrapper failed to lose any integrity tin either of the cigars that I had cut. The wrapper is not incredibly soft, but it is not rugged either, it has a level of stiffness to it that does not seem to be the result of poor storage.

The Black Label’s flavouring is not that complex, and tastes predominantly of a bold well-rounded tobacco. Within the first five minutes of the burn however, you are greeted to an almost bitter cocoa flavouring. Reiterating, the tobacco is the most predominant flavour in this cigar, but unlike other full bodied cigars I have tried of this size the after taste from the tobacco never becomes overwhelmingly bitter. The best way to describe the taste of the tobacco would be smooth but bold. About half an hour in, I would say the flavour stays consistent. An aspect of the Black Label that makes it enticing is it’s excellent draws accompanied by nice thick smoke. The only issue I have had with the Black Label is that it appears to burn unevenly, and while I initially chalked this up to me not lighting this thick cigar properly, attempts at preventing uneven burning in my second Black Label proved futile. The ash is a light grey, and stays quite structured throughout the burn, meaning you will not be ashing the Black Label too often. In addition, the burn time of this cigar is most pleasant, with both Black Label cigars lasting me within the hour range. Furthermore, even down to the last quarter of this cigar it did not taste of harsh filler tobacco like you might expect from a cigar of such thickness, which goes to show the excellent crafting of this cigar. I must note however, that for less seasoned smokers the boldness of the flavour and thickness of the smoke may be off-putting.

The Partagas Black Label cigar is not for the casual smoker. In addition, I would argue that a cigar of this caliber deserves to be smoked sparingly due to it’s bold draws and long burning time. If you enjoy full bodied cigars and want something bold and long lasting, then this is the cigar for you. Throughout the full burn time, the tobacco’s boldness never becomes gross or bitter, and the accompaniment of the cocoa flavouring serve to make this a well rounded full-bodied cigar. For seasoned smokers who want something bold (note: that’s the keyword for today) then I give full recommendation for the Black Label cigar.

If you are interested in trying the Partagas Black Label cigar, check out Cigar City for excellent prices on this great full bodied cigar.

Cigar Review: Dunhill Signed Range Corona

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While many of my cigar smoking friends have said good things about Dunhill cigars, I have to admit, I avoided the these cigars based on the gentleman I used to buy my cigars from telling me that he disliked the Dunhill brand. Being an amateur, and more impressionable smoker at the time, I took his words quite seriously and did not bother to give the Dunhill‘s a fair shot. That is, until now. I can apologetically tell the cigar gods that I am glad to say that my opinion was completely unfounded, and out of all the cigars I have tried this year, the full-bodied Dunhill Signed Range Corona is one of the better ones.

The Dunhill is packaged in a sleek crimson red tube that is designed to hold air and keep out moisture – definitely to extend the cigars shelf life outside of a humidor. Upon sliding open the red container I was greeted with an aroma that could be described as spicy and sweet. The cigar’s band mimics the packaging by sporting a crimson red base with silver lettering and accents. The cigars wrapper seems standard, and the two I tried both cut well. The wrapper has a softness to it which makes placing it on your lips a comfortable experience.

The initial taste of the Dunhill Signed Range Corona is mediocre at best. As it burns however, the cigar’s taste builds, and you will find pleasant spices accompanied by a taste that I can describe as being almost fruity. The beauty of this cigar however, is that these flavours are not overwhelming, and serve to compliment the natural flavouring of the tobacco, not overtake it. In addition to the flavourful nature of this cigar, it must be noted that while the smoke draws thick, it is never a result of overwhelming filler tobacco, but a careful combination of all the flavouring this cigar has to offer. Approximately twenty minutes in, and a bit more than halfway through the cigar, the flavour is consistent but also seems to take on more of a leathery quality – which is a good thing. About two-thirds of the way through the cigar, you will notice that this cigar loses a bit of it’s flavour, but that is to be expected when smoking a cigar down to that point. The ash maintains a light grey, but does not have as much integrity as you would expect, and this lead to me ashing it more then I would have liked to; not a major take away from this excellent cigar, but it is a minor annoyance. The cigar has a relatively normal burning time for a cigar of this size, and both Dunhill’s I was sent lasted me approximately thirty to forty minutes. The cigar is medium to full bodied, and this may intimidate less veteran smokers, but for those who enjoy a quality full bodied experience, then this cigar is definitely worth giving a try.

The Dunhill Signed Range Corona is an excellent addition to any smokers humidor. The only negatives I can really surmise are minor ones that overall do not take away from the excellent build and taste of this cigar. If you are not interested in medium to full bodied cigars, and thick draws of smoke are something that you cannot handle in a cigar, then you may be turned off by the Dunhill Signed Range Corona. However, If you are looking for a full bodied experience that does not overwhelm with its flavour or tobacco, then the Dunhill Signed Range Corona is for you. Based on this cigar alone, I am interested to see what else Dunhill has to offer; maybe I’ll take a trip down to that gentleman’s cigar shop and ask him… Aha.

Check out Cigars City if you are interested in buying this excellent cigar.

The Shift.

I am currently in the midst of shifting this blogs focus. For scant posting, I seem to get quite a bit of traffic that is pertaining to one of my main loves: cigars.

I want to give this blog a shift towards it’s initial focus of cigars, and have some exciting updates following shortly.

Stay tuned.

The Issue With Affirmative Consent

People who oppose affirmative consent are being categorized as patriarchal drones and/or closet rapists by many feminists, and I am aware that by trying to be critical of something the feminist movement is currently championing, I too will be potentially labelled as such. However, I am not writing this for feminism, or to even really challenge proprietors of feminism, but I am writing this for the critical minded gentleman who may or may not agree with the push for affirmative consent. For those who have not heard of the current push for affirmative consent, it is the concept that in order for partners to proceed towards sex, the person engaging in sex (the man presumably) must acquire an explicit yes before the passionate encounter can escalate towards sex. Opposer’s to the affirmative consent movement often cling to the grey area argument, and that is that sexual interactions are not cut and dry, and instances such as ‘heat of the moment’ interactions can lead partners to engaging in sex without much forethought, or mixed signals from both parties can lead to partners engaging in sex without fully verbalizing what is happening and lead to terrible implications (see: rape). Many opponents (see: feminism) of the grey area argument view it as a result of men not understanding women and what women want, and view the grey area argument as an ideology fuelled by rape culture. The issue with the affirmative consent argument is that there are flaws to both sides of the debate. Some men do misconstrue obvious signals when trying to obtain sex and this can lead to devastating consequences for both parties involved, but with that being said, many feminists have a large disconnect between sex and the biological realities that drive it. That is why I cannot support affirmative consent, but I can support some variation of cultural understanding between both parties in regards to sex.

EverydayFeminism.Com has a article entitled Debunking the “Gray Area” Myth, and while there are some valid points to be found within this article, there are also some silly ones that need to be addressed. There are three out of six points I agree with on Everyday Feminism’s write up; I agree with the argument that men should not rape because a woman is dressed a certain way; that is reasonable and certainly should considered rape if a man believes he is entitled to that woman’s sugar walls simply because she is dressed a certain way. In addition, if a woman flirts with you, you are also not entitled to sex based on this factor alone. Lastly, being owed sex simply because you are dating does not entitle you to use your girl’s sugar walls freely, and if done forcefully, it is rape. These three points brought up in Everyday Feminism’s article are all points I can side with. Forcing of sex is not right in any circumstance, and that is infact rape. So, this leaves three points that Everyday Feminism brings up that I do not agree with.

Everyday Feminism’s point that, “They kept saying ‘no’ but eventually said ‘yes'” make sense from a non-critical view of human nature because presumably this could be a product of force and the yes was acquired out of brute deception, but that would be removing ourselves from reality. You see, when I was a budding young gentleman of game I encountered a situation similar to this where the female kept resisting and eventually I stopped, and hoped that we could potentially make sticky at a later date. That date never came. I asked a friend who was closer to this female than I was on why she was no longer interested, and my friend responded, “because you weren’t persistent enough.” Now, we could conclude that this is a small fraction of women that do this and hand Everyday Feminism an award in human enlightenment, but in my experience, and the experience of other men, this is not a small fraction of women. Even more confusing is that these same women, when pushed to eventually have sex, will usually continue to have sex with the same person who pressured them the first time. Now of course, because you need to spell it out for feminists or automatically their minds jump to catastrophe (see: rape), if she is clearly uncomfortable by your advances, – moving away, disgusted when you touch her, pushing you away at the slightest motion towards her, and trying to leave but you won’t let her, etc. – but you still force your dick inside, then you are raping my friend. However, if she continues to stay, and accepts your continuing escalation (by physically responding by appearing aroused) despite verbalizing her disagreement with what is happening, then she is enjoying the escalation. Feminists will instantly pull out the, “you are saying women do not know what they want” card, and well, that is exactly what I am saying. This same scenario has happened to me more times than I can count, and approximately zero times was I accused of rape – the majority of these women actively liked me after.

The second point Everyday Feminism brings up is “They didn’t say ‘no’…” Here is a primer to prevent budding gentlemen from rapism: If you force your dick in without any sort of interaction, then it is rape. The issue with this point is that it does not root itself in reality. I have had several instances where the passion was so high after a night of courtship, and it lead the female and I to making out, and as they say “one thing lead to another,” and we ended up having sex. No where in that process did we communicate active consent, it was just assumed. I guess the intervals where the woman asked me “do you have a condom?” implied that I was a vicious rapist and she was asking me to stop, or maybe I am just socially retarded.

Lastly, Everyday Feminism asserts “We were both wasted, but we both really wanted it.” This is a muddy point because Everyday Feminism half implies that there is a normative process of people engaging in intercourse drunk, but again as my handy little primer states: if you force your dick in without any sort of interaction, then it is rape. If she is passed the fuck out, do not do some scumbag shit and rail her, but if she is drunk but coherent, and you also are drunk but coherent, and passion leads you to potential pussy, then go for it sir. However, the issue here is that feminists have a presumption that men are responsible for sex when drunk and even if equally drunk, he is always the victimizer. So I guess Everyday Feminism believes you can circumvent this issue by giving affirmative consent, but again, refer to points one and two, these ideas have no basis in reality in conjunction with female desire. The logic of making sure you are in the clear to engage in intercourse is sound, but it goes against female desire.

Women want to be desired, and there is a masculine component, that whether or not it is socially conditioned or biologically programmed, that states men lead and women follow. Men asking if they can proceed with the sex that both parties so dearly want is not masculine, that is putting the realm of sexual desire as a power women have control over, and thus this negates their interest in proceeding with sex. The only way I could say that Everyday Feminism is right in their support of affirmative consent is if you as a man are so socially retarded that you cannot decipher a woman being uncomfortable vs. a woman being primed and ready for sex. So, then of course, affirmative consent has a place for a small fraction of socially retarded men, but the majority have a different idea about sex, and the model of affirmative consent does not fit into that idea at all. Alternatively, I should ask Everyday Feminism why the onus is not for women to lead sexual interactions from now on? Why do they not gain male consent? By this logic, I could argue those times a woman pulled my cock out and started riding me, WITH ZERO CONSENT (brb, PTSD), raped me. Such arguments would sound silly, but they fit in line with the eqaulist ideology that affirmative consenters feel is gospel… or maybe feminism has been working towards making women immune to any sort of judgement or punishment when it comes to sexual choices… No, that cannot be it, I’m just crazy.

Safe gaming gentlemen.

Construction Made Me a Better Man

I dropped out of graphic design in College to work as a labourer on a construction crew for a year and a half, and have continued working construction as a summer job. The rough job really changed me. Even though I was taking active steps towards overcoming my fears during my early college days, construction helped build character that I would not have gotten anywhere else. In some ways construction is the best thing that ever happened to my game.

I needed summer work and my friend was able to land me a job on a construction crew. My friend shared some encouraging words the day before work, “This is a hard fucking job. You’ll probably quit, but at least it’s something for now.” Nice. It was hot as fuck my first day of work, and I ran to meet the gentlemen I was going to work with. Winded and sweating I enter the work truck, and  nervously shake these calloused gentlemen’s hands. They tell me what to expect on my first day, and I already feel anxious as fuck. I bust my ass the first day, confident that I did a terrible job; they keep me employed though, and so I kept coming back. I enjoyed the hard work, a lot. Being raised by an elitist grandmother, I always though construction was below me, but after my first week part of me realized that this line of work was exactly what my life was missing.

Truth be told, I was intimidated as fuck by these construction gentlemen. I never felt like I was good enough to be on their crew, and their whole way of speaking and working was tough. I would have been 18 or 19 when I started, and working with older gentlemen was foreign to me. When they made fun of me, as construction gentlemen do as a way of endearment to their fellow man, I actively defended myself and got angry even. The summer passed and I decided to drop out of school to continue work in construction. I ended up getting accustomed to the construction banter, I started to turn the brutally hard work into menial routine, and most important, I got over my anxieties through this process. Construction changed that for me most; situations that seemed scary or rugged, construction prepared me for. Working such a hard job with a lot of dangers really made me approach life differently. Construction hardened me in a way other experiences hadn’t, and while I can credit the raw dangers of the work environment for that, I also owe it to the guys I worked with. Having a bunch of grown men constantly throwing banter back and forth, or laughing at stupid shit on a day to day basis, really makes you look beyond the menial nature of other embarrassing situations or environments you face in your life outside of construction. If you do something truly embarrassing at work, you bet your ass everyone is going to laugh at you, but that’s how you become hardened, because you realize that certain situations are out of your control and you move on from them stronger; that’s what construction did for me.

Not to mention, construction shifted me from a 160 pound pudgy beta (I did work out, but not to this extent) to a 190 pound foot ball player-sized gentleman. The pure athleticism this job required leaked into all facets in my life. I’m no longer content during my off season sitting around, I now feel that I am forever active; I have to work out on my days off, I have to go for long walks, I have to challenge myself physically at all costs since working construction. Being physically active all the time not only gave me a physical boost, but a mental one (I have to assume this is due in part to higher testosterone production), and knowing that I was able to shift myself into an athletic gentleman – a gentleman I would have never considered before construction – made me realize academics and other activities in my life could be improved by hard work.

Hanging off of a rope while carrying 200 pounds on your shoulder really makes situations like approaching women seem trivial. Facing bigger gentlemen who look like they have never worked a day in their lives seems trivial. Falling off a sky-high beam because you were doing something stupid makes getting laughed at because you tripped over a curb seem trivial. The more I worked construction, the more I realized that a lot of average fears anxious people such as my prior self had, were trivial. Having that edge in understanding your fears really pushed me to challenge life head on.

During a presentation in school I stood on the table to add extra emphasis to the anthropological study we were presenting. The table slide right from under me, I landed on my back in front of a class of one hundred. Some laughed, and some offered support. I got up, and without a word acknowledging the stupid tumble I took, I continued with my presentation.

If this was two years ago, before I started construction, I would have been a nervous mess.

Game Adventures #2: Parks, Parties and Apartments

I seem to post my later game adventures on Roosh V Forums, but I realize that the write ups are good enough that you gentlemen who follow my adventures might find these exciting. So I’ve compiled three of my most recent ones for your reading pleasure. ALL IN ONE PACKAGE. (These are the original posts from RVF, but I’ve fixed various spelling mistakes in my writing and added some details that I forgot in my initial write ups).

Fucking On The Park Dock

I’m wasted boys.

I ended up going to the park with my close friend and we drank until midnight. This gorgeous blonde (8.5/10) and her hippie roomate come over and mistaken me for her weed dealer. I tell her to sit down because we needed a female opinion on some bullshit argument we were having. She bought it. Classic pick up bullshit. She vibes with us and I can tell she is taking a liking to me; her room mate is all sorts of weird – he has some weird protective crush on her. I keep joking with her, telling her ridiculous things, and taking none of her shit tests seriously; “You think you’re so attractive, don’t you?” I smirk, “well that’s what my mother says.” After awhile of building rapport with her, I write on the notes app in my phone: “Come for an adventure on the town. My apologies, but your boyfriend seems wasted; I’m sure the night will be fun.” She laughs as I pass her my phone, and writes back “first off hes not my boyfriend and second I don’t have ID.” I write back “ID is irrelevant, come have fun.” She whispers in my ear “Lets go soon.” I don’t expect this part: she gets up, looks at her weird beta bitch boy room mate and tells him she’s leaving and he gets mad that she’s leaving with two random dudes she just met; she says loudly “I don’t fucking care if you have feelings for me, get over it. I don’t like you like that. I’m single, and I’m going to have fun.” I’m feeling mediocre about her weird actions, and I walk away with my friend. I want more liquor. She follows and apologizes for the scene she made. I bring my friend and her to a quaint little bar and she happens to know some people there. I leave her with her friends and have some more drinks with my friend. My friend and I are having a good time. She sits beside me and tells me that she finds me really attractive. I don’t say a word. I continue flirting with her, and I decide to challenge her to a thumb war. She laughs, accepts, and I beat her at the thumb war. She starts giggling and I lean in and make out with her.

We leave the bar, and I tell my buddy we should run a train on her. He tells me she’s not feeling him. Turns out my drunken judgement is off, I don’t think she is feeling him. I give him cab fare home and tell him I’m sorry he couldn’t crash at my place. I end up telling her about a unique spot I love to sit at night at. She tells me she’s excited to see it; she goes on again about how attractive I am. I take a short cut to my magic spot by going through an alley way. We stop in the alley way and I finger her while making out with her. We continue on her way, and I bring her to my magic spot: it’s a dock in the park I smoke cigars at some time. It’s late and I start making out with her. She is giggling and I start to finger her again. She keeps asking if she’ll get caught, I tell her “who cares, take your pants off” and then grab her neck and start kissing her lips. She takes her pants off, and I start to rail her. The police are literally flashing their lights across the dock from us, but I don’t think they see us. Nerves got the best of me and I end up letting her cum and pull out without busting my nut. She giggles and kisses me and then we get dressed quickly and leave.

I bring her home intending to bust my nut, but she starts freaking out that her hippie room mate is home and will be upset that she went out with a guy. As we’re walking some gentleman screams in my direction, but I ignore it. The gentlemen keeps screaming, “HEY FUCKER! I’M IN THE ARMY. I’M TALKING TO YOU.” His tone pissed me off, and I stop in my tracks and tell him to come here if he has an issue. I stand my ground and she starts crying in my arms. He feels bad that he made her cry, apologizes and goes on his way. She says, “I didn’t want to see you hurt someone or get hurt. You were scary!” I only knew this chick for four hours at this point, and she acted like my girlfriend or something. Kind of weird. She insists she gets my Facebook, but I tell her I don’t believe in it and insist she emails me instead. I give her a bogus email and go on my way.

What an exciting night.

The Twenty-Nine Year Old Party Slut

This adventure made me realize time and time again that late twenties women are easy as fuck to game; presumably some biological realization that their sexual power is fading.

Her body was immaculate, but lost points for a mediocre face. A solid 8 out of 10. The second I walked into the party she was eye fucking me. I brought a 40 of olde english and she eventually comments on it, “are you really drinking those? that’s so high school!” I smirk and we cheers. I walk away from her, but she eventually follows and asks me how I know everyone there. I switch gears and I keep asking her “why” questions about herself. Somehow the topic of ages comes up and I ask her to guess how old I am. She says “31, 32?” I tell her she’s way off, and that I’m only 24. She is 29 but she seems disappointed at my age. I ask her where her walker is, and she laughs, then I ask “so how was world war 2?” She says “I heard you make the joke to someone else earlier in the night, it wasn’t funny then, and it’s not funny now.” I bounce back, “yeah, well there goes two nights of joke writing, wasted. But, atleast my mom thinks I’m funny” (I get a lot of mileage out of this silly “at least my mom thinks…” joke). She laughs and at this point we’re both fairly drunk. I bring her to the basement where she is staying the night, we talk about some stupid shit, and I end up cutting her off and making out with her.

She removes her shirt and bra, and I don’t know why this chick wore such a tight bra because her breasts are massive. This large breast size is made sexier by the fact that she has such a slim stomach and waist. I slap a jimmy on and I start fucking her. I tell her she has such a tight pussy and body (she did). She swoons to this statement, “It’s so nice to hear a younger guy say that” (she must have repeated a variation of this statement five or six times); chick must be realizing her sexual market value is going to plummet soon. The fact she didn’t shave her pussy though has me assume that she hadn’t been fucked in awhile. I continue railing her, she starts riding my cock, and like we are in college or some shit, she’s drinking a beer as she’s riding my dick. She gets off of me, takes my condom off, and then she proceeds to deep throats my dick. Not boasting gentlemen, but my cock is pretty big, so the fact she managed to take it down her throat to the base of my cock was an impressive feat. She gets back on top of my dick, but I forget I don’t have a condom on, but at this point her pussy feels even more incredible. I end up telling her to get on her back, and I bust in her mouth, she swallows it without even flinching. What a slut.

I know some of you gentlemen are opposed to condoms, but I am in a long term relationship, so out of respect I wear a condom if I’m going to engage in extra curricular activities. So her getting on top of my dick for that little bit minus a condom was kind of shitty. Regardless, I was actually under the impression she was the same age as me, but as I said above,  makes me realize that late twenties women are easy as pie to fuck. While I did “game” this girl with traditional methods, it was definitely made easy by the fact that unlike a younger twenties girl, this girl showed active and immediate interest which always kept interaction in my favour. This pattern has followed with any other late twenties woman I’ve banged as well.

Chicks values be fading.

The Out of Town Five

Well. I railed some broad… She was a 5/10 at best. Not the proudest moment as I have never dipped below what I would deem a 6…

Met her on Tinder and  she drove an hour away just to see me. Her profile pictures were devious. Must have been old pictures on her profile. When I sat in her car, I scan her body, and she did not look slim like in her picture. Her chunky demeanour seriously brought her rating from a hard 7 to a solid 5. Despite my hard demeanour gentlemen, I am a reasonable person, so part of me felt obligated to spend some time with her since she invested time to drive so far *cue beta bells.* Cute face, nice perky large tits, but a really chunky body – fuck it I figured I might as-well get something for my time, and so I went for it. I railed the fuck out of this chunky chick. Excuse my fragile ego, but I have never banged a girl lower then what I deemed a 7. So fucking a really chunky chick felt slightly embarrassing, but I was horny and she was available; she definitely wanted to get her pussy pounded.

So, I did porn star shit: deep throat, hardcore choking, spitting on her, slapped her, even slipped it in her ass – she’s never done anal. She loved it; what a whore. So I ended up busting a nut in the condom, and then made her eat it. I tell her to put on a movie while I smoke my cigars in her apartment. She puts on some terrible romantic comedy I entirely forget the name of. Regardless, I was still horny ten minutes later so I got her to give me a tit job and suck my dick for an hour. I nutted on her face and got her to clean my cock up after with a fresh towel.

As the cum sat on her face she tells me, “I’ve never had anyone treat me like that. That was incredible.”

In some way, after this adventure I was weirdly motivated to approach more then ever, but also oddly satisfied with the encounter.

No regrets.