July 8/84 - Dear Diary;
Well, 'nother scorcher day in LA, telling ya, the smog adds at least 20 degrees to the temperature. Need booze to forget the dump I live in with the losers who occupy it, but that requires some fast cash. Tyrone hooked me up with one of his "associates" who goes by the name of "Slik", believe me this guy slides when he walks & more greasy than a bucket of KFC. We stood in his 2x4 shithole apartment crawlin' with roaches that had tattoos. Checkin' me out from tit to twat which I'm sure he already had sex with me 1000 times over in his fucked up head. His eyeballs were stuck to my ample tits that were bustin' outta my tight top. Askin', if they're a gift or real? Assured the enzyme if he squeezed 'em, wouldn't get doused by silicone & they're 100% homegrown. Explained, if I wanna make an easy 500 bucks, all I'd have to do is the math, add the bed, subtract the clothes, divide the legs & multiply! Naked in 2 seconds flat as my boobs dropped like 2 loaded cannons givin' good ol' Slik toxic waste himself a major rise in the south pole. Started snappin' away practically shovin' the camera up my ass crack revealin' my neatly waxed pussy patch. Could feel his breath bounce off my skin, almost turnin' it green, yuck! 40 snapshots later found myself countin' the 500 bones, 10 minutes after found my siren red stilettos at the liquor store where I met this hunk Olie. Okay, so the name has to go but does that really matter when you're gettin' slammed by an 8" dick? Rode his rocket which felt like it was comin' outta my throat..oooh, what sweet sensation... draining his rocket fuel. We really rocked his place, well, his van but that's better than a cardboard box under a highway overpass where most of the molecules I know live. Too dam bad we crash landed back to earth, really was enjoyin' that flight into orbit. Man, whatta shame, lyin' to blondie I'm from outta town, coulda used more aviation fuel in the future.
Back at the dump sat guzzlin' my 40 pounder of JD as Shirl started her usual rent bit, why does she bother? We all know she dials Albert, Mr. Landlord, has phone sex with the old fossil & the monthly rent is paid, she's sucha fat piece a shit! Vance called, guess he's horny or hit my number by mistake on the redial instead of pizzaman? Whinin', we don't spend that much time together, suggested takin' my pic & jerk off, havin' sex with him is the same dam thing anyways. Getting bored of his puny sized dick. He gotta tattoo on it with his band "Wikked Wizard 4ever" Shoulda gotten "USELESS" instead but even that wouldn't fit, whatta jackass! Stupid little reptile, he should disappear, really gotta rid that little roach. Think all that blond dye is seepin' into the few brain cells he has left. Ha! Some rock star, big ego, small cock!! Wonder how much the Enquirer would gimme if I sent 'em an anonymous story with pics? Frig, gotta find me better dick, Vance's just don't measure up anymore. Just what the hell was I thinkin' anyways when I screwed that little maggot in the first place?
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