I remember the days years ago when I knew everything and how the people around me were crazy for doing the things they did and saying the things they did. I lived high on a mountain of cheese sprinkled with cracker dust; wine bottles everywhere throughout. The fresh stench of sex permeated the air and ashtrays filled to the brim with half smoked cigarettes were always on every flat or semi-flat surface. Every night we had the worlds problems solved and every night there was a different suspect.
They were always anonyous and alone. Not desperate, just really angered by something that has happened recently in their lives. They were always honest about their names; which I guess made them feel better as guys will easily use other names which may have made them feel better about their going outside the line for some extra spankage. Suspects they are, still, these wonderful people are the most human of all humans. They see a need and fulfill that need for real, reaping the rewards of anonymous and hardcore sexual practices with total and complete strangers (consenting adults). The rewards come in secret boxes wrapped with electric bows and cards that flash neon memories of yourself and one other in dirty and secret bliss. LLc
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