OMG fuckin late afternoon constipation got me like…still? Motherfuck. Time to take matters into my own hands. It grabs the smartphone and puts it in the pocket. Now. Push it. A dull boulder in my belly like I got knocked up last night all rapey rapey. Gotta coax that thing out the hole like trying to ensnare a rat with a cube of cheez. Get the blood going, here we go—homemade amateur porn average looking girl with pretty good buxom porny body skateboarding in lowkey depresso Vegas sssuburbia. Bingo. I can feel the rat shift in my intestines…

Knee high throwback American Apparel style circa ’05. Way proto dollskill. Short skintight slinky whore dress. Okay, pretty great body gotta admit. The title of the video promises a creampie. Sure, that sounds delightful. Not that I can be bothered to watch the video. Certainly not pay for it. Not even the preview. Okay, maybe the preview…

Just the whole idea of this, conceptually—the girl is making a video that she is selling for $14.99 and she’s slutboarding as the foreplay. That’s good. That’s pretty next level. She looks like she’s having fun too. Probably does this every day anyway, just not dressed like a stripper at 6:45am magic hour. Or maybe she does. Who gives a shit? Me. I’d like to give a shit.

This’ll push out the turtle head monster. Turtlin’ hard now. He’s scraping his sharp beak scratching skin on my precious rectal insides. Hard motherfucker coming. Gonna be a big boy. Feel it about to poke his beak thru the birth canal as my adida sweats drop down on my calves. Blood constricted, pull them down to my cum stained slippers. Slouch down on the bowl. Pits toxic, breath worse.

It’s no turtle though. It’s fuckin Gamera.

Begin the slow slide through the hole, against the inside of the cheeks. Mortality at its most precise. A few little remnants dangling, drop, drip, drip, drop drop drop drop—a chunk hangs on a hair and plops in the water. IMAX dingle berry.

Ooh not just a creampie. It’s a sensual creampie. Aren’t they always? No, I guess some are hateful. Truly hateful.

I remember when I used to watch porn to get off. Now I use it to evacuate. Evacuate i/o ejaculate. I’ll take it. Everyday life in the post middle ages. Feels good man.

Really, at this point, shitting is pretty satisfying. I mean, not that it always hasn’t been but these days, with this old bone bag, my spirit is dragging—but man, it feels like I’m leaving a body in the water and I’m gettin off scott fuckin free. Truly liberating feeling, finally eliminating the corpse. It’s a murder of sorts. Down by the river. Animal corpses, all the tobaccofied trash that was imbibed, all that poisonous sugar, lotsa water—befouled, mixed with a riot of bacteria and acid toxins—dumped. Flush. Disappear it.

Murder the dirty thoughts too. Not really giving a shit about the porn girl skateboarding anymore. Close that window. Sort of disgusted by myself about the whole endeavor but at the same time, completely disinterested in wallowing in it.

This fuckin thing is a bowl winder. I can feel the warmth of the thick chunky large brown python emanating up against my cheeks and up the open filth hole, still dropping remnants of the tiny death. A six pounder, I’d imagine.

Getting uglier now as the last breathing and pushing techniques begin the birthing process yet again, not yet complete. Seems like there’s a creamy chunk left. Perhaps a rabbit pellet? And now I’ve stumbled upon the lovely starlet Charlotte Sarte getting pissed on by six headless cocks on Legal Porno. Mostly in her mouth but also on her face of course, and for some reason, on top of her head, her chest fuckin ev-ry-where. Full on pee bukakke time.

I’m ready to start the massive cleanup necessary here but still find myself with a fascination. She’s so beautiful this girl, probably a key to her success as a so called “alt porn” star. So innocent seeming. Not hard yet, besides the eyes. The eyes have seen some shit no doubt. Some big old man put his fingers and tongue where they shouldn’t a been 20 or so years ago. Cute everyday basic bitch with too much gothy makeup on. She really seems to enjoy it, the piss violence. The pure degradation. She almost has a Sasha Grey kinda fuck-it-all nihilistic come-and-get-me eye game, “I’m the real man here, I can take it all boys, gimme what you got” kinda glee getting urinated upon by multiple faceless men.

I don’t think you can stay semi-sweet looking forever, Charlotte. Sasha knew when to get out. Life hits you pretty fast and hard when you’re 25 and getting pissed on for a living.

And really, Charlotte—I mean—is anyone at all on the planet interested in seeing gaped assholes and the inside of your stomach? Is that a fucking giant wound? What the hell is that raw open sorta pink crater thing? What is this, fuckin sci fi? Sci fi horror? You could stick a stop sign pole up in that messy cavern. This is beyond metaphor or explanation. Please dudes, we get it, you’re superior and dominant and you hate women, despise them absolutely, and you want to humiliate them as much as humanly possible without murder. Totes. But no more assholes cracked open so wide as to catch a peek at the black hollow inside of the meat bag, k? Show us snuff instead if you must, go all out Night Stalker Richie style and slice and dice and spice up the rump roast, please. Much more entertaining than stretching pretty lil pink puckered holes open and making them nightmarish and completely classless. Fellas. Are you wit me? Entertain us. Not nauseate.

Wipe your shit clean. Forget the whole affair. Light the match.

Big wet tits 19, life is run by spite.