Hiyo, date scouts, it's Scooter P. Boot reporting for doot. Got an outpouring of love and malt beverages last time I went on a rant here and so here goes nothin...again. To answer some more of your questions, specifically the question of did I have trauma in my childhood, the answer is not really. There's a few times I remember like when a guy that was laying pipes for the city make me squat and take a shit in a log or when my dad used to throw lit matches at my feet when he was drunker than an airline pilot on Sunday to get me to dance, but no more than the usual day to day. Nother question I get often is "Hey Scootie Snack, do you have any pets?" Yes!!! I have a parrot named Sergeant Collins, a little goat named Paycheck and a border collie named Gassie. Keep the questions firin', the date requests blazin and take a number cause my my Back to Scoot schedule is fillin' up fast! And please Grandma Donna no more pie buffets, it sounds like a free-for-all over there. Scoot likes to preserve his fruit for special occasions. P.S. I know you're the "secret admirer" self proclaimed seductive redhead named Tamlin Carrier. Nice story, the answer is still "No!"
Hello, it's grandma Donna. My fingers don't move too fast on the keyboard so you'll have to bare with me. Last time I posted I wrote about the beautiful and lush rug I have in my special area that I had cleaned up and rolled out for guests. I didn't get but two responses from some younger gentlemen and thought I'd sweeten the deal a little and make some pies. First off I've been told I have the best pies south of the Rocky Mountains (I'm in Houston). Crispy and flaky on the outside and delicious and gooey on the inside. If you haven't taken a dip in my pie than you just haven't lived! Once you get lost in the delectable goodness you'll never want to come up for air, you'll truly feel that pie is now essential to go on. My cherry pie is like a drug for your taste buds and you'll be craving more. This pie needs to get eaten badly before it dries up and gets left to the birds so just use the email and let grandma Donna know to save you a slice!
20 something complex dude and straight out of the oven hot quiche, because duh. I am on fleek and unlike balayage on a Kardashian, I ain't comin' off. I know I'm humble bragging, but I'm blessed AF to be fit, funny and generally slaying every obstacle that comes at me #thestruggleisrealAF!!!. I'm looking for a dude that will turn up my life OR my night whichever comes first. Forget YOLO, I'm like reincarnating 20 times in this bitch YOLUYFIO (You only live until you figure it out) and I ain't figuring it out any time soon. Gonna keep dating musicians, gonna keep posting fake shit on instagram, gonna keep hatin (but posting cat memes about LoVe), gonna keep spending more money on Wish than what my rent would be if I moved out of my parents house. Straight up. So I'm gonna go to where the music flows and YOLUYFIOAF, riiiiigggggghhhhhhtttttt?
I'm not sure what to say...and that seems to be a consistent theme in my life. My name is Jade (No, that is not my web page name...that's my REAL name). I'm looking for a compassionate partner that can train me in the art of dirty talk. My last partner liked to call me "a dirty cum slut" and all I could think of to say was "The derogatory nature of your comment seems to be hitting some deep need I have to be demeaned" like I'm some kind of sex therapist. And it all seemed to come out that way and ruin the whole momentum. And ruin the whole relationship. He was so good at saying stuff like "Daddy wants to fuck your tight hole" to which I'd respond "That's fulfilling an innate and subconscious desire I have to fuck my father to piss off my mother and it's triggering my oxytocin response." Somehow what I was saying had the opposite effect on him and we'd end up in an argument with me apologizing profusely, saying all the right things, but his apologies were like "I'm gonna go watch Spartacus". I need someone who is going to be gentle with me (while spanking me and telling me "I've been a very bad girl") and give me some pointers on how not to relate that to some early traumatic memory. Thanks.
Right? I hope YOU do because I don't have a clue. I don't know why I'm here and I sure as hell don't know where to go from here. In fact if someone said "You know what to do" to me, I'd shut down, get very tired and probably not go outside until I was sure the person assuming I know what I'm doing had long ghosted me like my last gf. She probably went out with me assuming I'm a guy that knows what I'm doing... I'm not. I'm clueless. I don't know the love languages, I have no idea where the clit is (or what it is), I have no predictive ability to deduce why you are mad (even if the clues are strategically placed and identified), I'm not smooth AT ALL. I'm not even sure if this was all something I should be admitting. So let hope...you know what to do.
Getting in my mid 30's and thinking abut all the poor schmucks I dated: unemployed musicians, other side of the grass is greeners, cheaters and losers. Gave up the best years of my body to guys that left me with nothin' but a broken heart. Thinking back now I wish I'd been smarter and gone for old guys that propositioned me with cash for some non-relationship cause at least now I'd be enjoying my single life in style instead of being broke and broken. So I've sat around thinking can I really go down on some 80 year old smashed up boner that looks like a dehydrated mushroom? Can I really picture myself underneath saggy skin brushing my supple nipples and COPD groans? Compared with the painful drunken nights the so called "love of my life" spent out without a text or phone call as I tossed in my obsessive fantasies of where he was and the mornings of loneliness or the negligent years that went by when my other ex called my need for time with him "high maintenance", yes, I think I can happily function as a cum bank for some old geezer for a year. No brainer. I'll take door number 3, the cash, because if I choose 1 or 2 I'm walking out of here on a donkey. Straight up.
Hi, my name is Shane. Been on this site for awhile now and wondering what it's gonna take to get a lady to drop a deuce on my literal chest. This is not the poophole loophole; this is direct steam, no frills, human poop making it from point A (ass) to point B (bare chest). I prefer rock hard where it makes the sound of a dull thud and then kind of rolls off like a dud grenade hitting a rubber mat. Not into runny diarrhea (also known as the squirts or on Facebook as "It's complicated"). I'm into women, not men and their forty minute commitments. I'd like this to be zippy, like a McDonald's, but instead of burgers it's digestive impacted compost being released methodically on my torso region. In and out...or rather out and then out. Again, my name is Shane, there seems to be no perfect way to say this...please someone poop on me.
Hello, my name is Veronica and I'm looking for a few HOT email addresses to sp*m. I want to sp*m into your boxes so hard. You know what makes me HOT? Your email address ending in @gmail @yahoo or any other @ that leads into your HOT BOX!! You want my emails to cum into your sp*m folder? Oh yeah, that's what I want too so come on big boy what are you waiting for? I promise I'll squirt as much sp*m as your inbox can handle. Before you know it you'll be deleting my sp*m like crazy and yelling my name out loud like "Fuck....Veronica!" And there might not be any filter in there so what are you waiting for? I'm ready to email blast the fuck out of your world.
There once was a girl a bit too thick
She ate so much on our date it made me sick
I still took her home
But when we started to bone
I could see the lass was sportin' a dick
This be what happens to ya when ya drink too many Mickey's fore ya write the personal ads (not to mention go on dates ya met of the Craigslist). True story that. Not into the dude's cept the one other time I don't wish ta spill the beans about. I'm good at a few things, gettin' drunken hammered and still have a way with the ladies. Me accent they'll take it or leave it even if I'm pissed. Writin' a limerick or seven, bein' a general romantic and other kinds of real manly traits, ya know? Did I mention I have an accent? Aye. Know there's a special lady for me readin' this now. All I have ta ask is please for the love of God no more stiff cocks. Is it too hard a request?!
Just what it says in the title, looking for some sweet gash to ramrod my giant semi-truck with trailer. This product needs to get shoved into a unit quick or it's gonna expire. Have cargo, will travel within state lines to ensure the precious contents of my load get delivered swiftly and to your specs. Last guy who left an ad sounded like a straight bio-hazard...not my style to go into details about my junk and where it's been. I'm simply trying to bust your doors open with my meat wagon and penetrate that precious safe like a g-spot burglar. If that makes you hot, you should see my rig. I think we're done here.
A writer living in Portland, OR looking to meet Chuck Palahniuk. Single mom to 2 boys, sales agent and lawyer-in-training.