Gal4 Best Of

[shysnale]

Well, I have walked the streets offering myself. Just as an experience.
Oh, yeah, got thrown out of a car once, because I could not do a competent job of giving a hand job, or HJ. But you live, and you learn, and soon, I was very good at what I offered.
Well, what can I say, it is a life.
During winter times, and the cold really begin to get to me, I have done it for as little as $40 per night, all night.
You get out of the cold, get to someplace warm, and sometimes you get something to eat, and then get down to business.
Same in the summer, boiling hot, same mode of operation here.
I always kept myself ultra clean. Everywtime I swallowed some pus, after the session, I always went and took some stomach purgative.
I soon, got to know some customers on a regular basis, they treated me good.
However, there are those who will not pay. Mostly armed forces guys, they do ya, and leave. And there are those that will beat you up just for the hell of it. And then you end up spending time at a free clinic, waiting for hours on end, aching with pain.
Why I do this? Needed to know what my limits were, how tough I am.
I found out. I am pretty tough, and practically have no limits.
When I first started this, I was very very scared. But I went ahead with it.
No more will I have any more Ivory Tower perception of humanity.
You are born, and you go through life with certain set of delusions.
Some of which are trust, loyalty, humaness, and love.
Heh, all those are a bad joke, when you live life in the streets.

Based on these, after a couple of years of existence, I returned, went back home, and returned to school. I did excellent. My folks, were amazed at how mature I became. Growed up? Hardly, still liked double chocolate sundaes, afternoons watching movies and slacking off at the mall.
So, I returned and re read Nietzshce, and this time fully understood, especially the part about the morality of the master, and the morality of the slave.
I was brought up in the morality of the slave, compassion, goodness.
My experience in the streets taught me morality of the Master.
Truly, I know what it really noble in a human being, after cutiing through all the bull shit.
Like they said, don't take no wooden nickels.
You want it, take it.
So getting back to the original question, is it wrong to rape prostitutes? I guss not, when I was one, got done plenty of times, someitme got paid for it, sometimes not, what can I do for you?


-

Very well, will tell you one of my phantasms.

1. I am walking to my parking lot, to my car. It is late at night, and I have gone through one hell of a day. As I walk to my car, a hand reaches out, covers my mouth, and next a wad of cloth covers me and I cannot breathe, and I am gone.

2. I wake up, I am bound to a toilet commode, naked, ropes all around my breasts, arms and wrists, I am secure, I cannot move.

3. You come in, slap me a few times, twist my nipples, pull my hair, force me to lick your dick, your balls, and then you force that in my mouth, grab my head and move it back and forth, back and forth, over and over, more times than I care to remember. Your dick hits the roof of my mouth and soon, my mouth becomes sore from all that pounding abuse.

4. You take a wet rag, stuff it down my mouth, and then piss on my face to relive yourself and then leave. I am left crying, whimpering, struggling to free myself, all to no use. I am secure, I am not going anywhere, I am set.

5. Some time later, you return, left me up and you have a raging hard on, and you begain to enter me and pound me without mercy, I get to the point where I am pleading, hollering through my gag. Over and over, and then you shoot yourself in me, I cannot take it, but I must.
You pull that filthy rag out of my mouth and make me lick you all over again, and again.

6. You take me, throw me in the tub and take a water hose and push it up my womb, and start shooting water into it, filling up my womb with water, I am about to bust, yet you continue, and then you take a shampoo bottle and plug up my pussy, I am under pain, the water filling up my womb is really too much, but you fill up mouth, ram it in with the rag.

7. You take me, and whip my ass, over and over, and next my tits, and then slap my face a few more times, but now you are spent, and just leave me there to think on my misery. You approach me, stomp me on my stomach twice, I belch fluid right through my gag, You kneel, and work your cock all over my face, humiliating me. There are tears flowing thorugh my eyes, and I am spent, and pass away to sleep.

8. It is now morning, and I am back at work. Getting myself ready, some one asks me, how I enjoyed my day off. I say, it was splendid, I love it, it does nto get better than this.

-

yeah, I am in this room with three other guys, and they want it, but not me, I wanna go home, it has been a long day, and my mind is the furtherest form having sex. I just want to go home, take a bath, get something cool to drink, and go get some sleep.
But they go the damn keys, and they won't give me the keys, and they grab me and......

yeah, by the time they are finished, I have had a bath, not the kind I wanted, but I got one. And somehting to eat also, again, not what I wanted, but they gave it to me. Wow, they are so generous.

And I get home, I have had it, no, no, no. I pour out a bath, and just have enough energy to climb in and pass out.

In my dreams, I am shrieking, THOSE DAMN STINKING MOTHERFUCKERS, ASS WIPES, SHITTY GRIMY FLTHY, NO GOOD SCUM SUCKING TOAD WIPES.

I HOPE THEIR PRICK TURNS PURPLE, THEIR TONGUES TURN BLACK, AND THE EYEBALLS JUST FALL OUT OF THEIR FUCKING SKULLS, THE DAMN GREEN PUKING, PURPLE PISSING MOTHERFUCKERS

ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!! ARRGGGHHHHH!!!

JUST LIKE THE DAMN PIECE OF KRAP THAT JUST HANGS IN YOUR RECTUM AND WON'T MOVE. THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE, DAMN, YOU SHIT HEADS!!!

-

One of my ancestors, during the civil war, (a misnomer, there is no war that is civil), had a contract to supply the Union with meat goods and gun powder.
Oh, yes, he delivered. Good stuff.
Supplied sausage when he was supposed to have supplied steak, and the gun powder, even though it was high grade, was cut to 95% of its full strength.

...not to mention he was also supplying the Confederacy at the same time.

Oh, and at the war's end he was given a medal from Gen. Grant, thanking him for his services.

Well, my family is in the gunpowder business, been in it for a long, long time.
One of them almost got caught supplying both sides in WW I.

Oh, yeah, you know, your daddy tells you to be honest, put in a good day's work, and be loyal. And by the time you get into the teens years, you have seen your daddy screw over a lot of people. It really makes you respect your family.

But damn, what am I saying? I love money, I love power, especially when they have the power over me, and makes me crawl on my hands and knees, begging to be whipped.

I don't know, I love corporate men, the robber barons.

Those such as, Cornelius Vanderbilt, John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Andrew Mellon, Alfred P. Sloan, makes me wet.

I suppose this childhood of mine being molested by such people made me what I am now. One sick krap.

Yeah, baby, Capitalism, forever.

-

Yeah, grew up in a family environment, where, you sat down at the dinner table, you were expected to speak French. Of course, I struggled with it, couldn't speak it, and subsequently could not eat much, and remain starved, ran down to the corner service station, stole a bunch of little sacks of potato chips, and that is why, maybe I am so damn warped. Malnutrition in my early years.

Once, I was taken aside by my sweet daddy, and told by him to stop being so nice to the paid help.
"But they are nice to me." "^^, they are paid to be nice to you, if you so much as bend over to kiss their ass the next time, and I see, I will slap the krap out of you, you are a ^^, remember that. You hear me?"

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Years later, I went back to the service station and gave the lady down there, two hundred dollars, saying that it was for bills I had piled up and forgot to pay, heh, she just smiled and took the money.

I am honest, if anything, and I owe somebody, I will pay. Very much against the way my family does business, but that is just me, a deviant.

Oh, yeah, did I tell ya, that I got molested by the hired help? Well, I did, and I am still here.

I suppose, if I had a perfect childhood, never been molested, would have never come here. I would have been another Perfectly Ideal Girl (read PIG) and that would be it.

But I am chicken shit. I just love money, maybe it is in the genes, you think?
Even back when I was selling it on the streets, I always counted my money and saved as much as I could. Always, always, went down to the bank and made my deposit like a good little dip shit that I was.

Even when I was on my own, I enrolled in commnuity college and went to school to learn about finance, business law, and similar topics.
Came out of class one day, finally finished my exam, and went out on the street, got picked up by a pimp, took out to a vacant lot and got beaten.
Came to in a hospital, called the college, and found out I did real good.

I got hit upon there in the vacant lot, and that I am here.

But no, this is RB, and not Dear Abby, so I will stop here, at least for the time being.


-

First time I got sent off to college, and was summer break, my folks paid for my room and board, and I was like there, all by my fucking self. And sooner or later you get tired of fucking yourself.

And I went walking down the street, night time, bored to fucking death, thinking about watching a move, and a car pulls up and man starts talking to me, me am bored so I start talking and next thing you know, I am in his car and going some place.
In the morning, I am dropped off sameplace, only difference, got a little more money.

Did three to four times a month, yeah, how I spent my summer vacation.

Don't know, having a legit job keeps you from being bored, and I bore easy.

Don't blame me, only time I don't get bored is when I am tied up.

-

Oh, yeah, in my childhood bondage moments, my sister took her panty which she had worn for three damn days, pissed on it and then shoved that into my mouth and taped around my head with electrical tape.

Can you spell retch? Ready to throw up? None of it would have helped, she just stood there, looking at me, laughing.

Try to get loose, hell, how could I, with my wrists coiled in electrical wire.

Rope burn? How about coil burn.

Yeah, fun, fun, but not to me.

-

No, not actually, I could have got off my lazy ass, find a job and make myself useful, but up until then, I had lived in virtual isolation, except for a few isolated cases in which I was traumatized.
But the aspect of being desired, acturally being desired, not forced, but someone willing to pay for me, was new.
I felt suddenly empowered, confident, and new horizons appeared.

But, again, this is another trap. selling yourself is another form, oh so, subtle, of slavery. Soon, my tricks were forcing me to do more, and more for the same amount of money.
It was fine at first, never made any money like that, but the amount always, or nearly always stayed the same, maybe $10 or $20 dollars more, or less, but it hovered around the same median.

At first, it is an ego boost, but later, it becomes demoralizing, degrading, because you eventually realize that the customers have the control, not you.

Also, it has to do with the frame off mind you have then, and face it, I was a damn slut. I cared for nothing except for a few minutes of orgasmic pleasure, and money, if I made any money was just incidental.

Soon, since I was making money, school work began to appear superflous, and so I quit. I could make it on my own, I told myself, and I did.
I moved out of my fancy dorm, found a room in a building basement, and lived like a rat.

But who cares, I was having fun, living for the excitement of the streets, and the future? Heh, what future? Man, tomorrow is a long ways off, not to worry, you will stay young forever, Live, Live, for TODAY!!

It all came crashing down, when I began missing my period, and found out I was damn fucking pregnant.
That is when you realize that, hey my physics is weak, one of Newton's law of motion, to every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, comes to the full force in your personal life.

No, could have done nothing, and just got bored, believe me, it would have been so much easier, but ooohhh, no, had to do things the hard hard way.

I had always considered myself smart, superior intellect, always relished in the fact that I was so intellectually adept, but actually I was fucking stupid, dumb, beyond dumb.

So, getting bored, have nothing to do? damn, find some work.
You know, the old saying that the idle mind is the devil's workshop, is very true, at least it applies to me.

-

Well, ever been to rehab? They put you in a windowless room, they totally isolate you. They give you no books, no games, no tv, nothing.

They make you bored, and after the first few days of this, you get damn bored.

Heck, even the food they give you is boring, boring, and dull.

And soon, you are looking at your finger prints and noting their intimate variations and changes. You look at your skin and see all the veins and note their routing through out your body. You look at your knuckles, and lick them and watcht the saliva trickle down your hand.

Then they put you in a room, with other people, and finally you get some social interaction, talk about anything. So, I met this chick and we started talking about being tied up and krap. Yeah, we finally had something going, and then the counselor comes up and hears us and splits us apart.

Well, they finally put me in a room with a chick who yells every five minutes.

Yeah, she could be nice and normal, and all of a sudden she gets out there an screams at the top of the voice.

So, I tell myself, why fight, why not join her? So, every five minutes, we get out there and both of us yell and fall back laughing, hugging and we finally make out.

I go through this for about eight fucking weeks and finally given medicine and and am certifiably dried out. Heck I am dried out, yes I am. I have become like beef jerky. First time I ever like licking myself. But not enough to leave my day job.

So, what was my day job, back then? Nothing. Just hanging out on the streets and jerking off. No, not in broad daylight, by the shade of the trees.

Always dreaming of becoming the best tasting beef jerky, yeah, a goal to strive for.

Yeah, one day have a baby and name it Jack LInk.

-

Damn, those nights are long, long, and long. Why, oh, why, oh, why, do people botch it when they attempt to commit suicide? They couldn't do a damn thing right in their entire damn lives and now this, they can't do this right, either.

Huh, shit. And now, it is up to me to wipe things clean for them. Oh, I get tired, get tired, and get tired. It is like your mother has an old vase, and somebody knocks it down and breaks it, and now it is your job to glue the pieces back together. I hated jigsaw puzzles, hate them.

Ya know, if you are going to bust a vase, then follow through, burn the damn house. And if you have destroyed the house, who gives a damn about a vase.

It is like this, babe, if you been done in at the ass, you don't remain a virgin, no more, got it? It don't matter if you never been done in the nookie, you ain't one no more. What the hell, you need? Some damn certificate, saying, now you ain't a virgin? Congratulations, Ex-Virgrin, fifth grade, welcome to the club?

Maybe one day, when you are crying for some anaesthesia, yeah, I will do you, yeah, see this 12 Gauge Remington shotgun, baby? Once you get a dose of this, you won't need nothing else. Yeah, stick it up your butt, and that will take care of all that damn clogged up intestines. Heeh, Hehhhe, hehhehheee. Take two, and don't fucking call me in the morning. I need my beauty sleep. Like yeah.

-

Back at work again, damn, not much of a maternity leave. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, here I am taking the derlicts of humanity to higher state of health well being. Over and Over and Over.

Excuse me, but I am dang fucking beat, been at it for long time now, damn, probably go out to my truck and sleep. No going to be no damn fatality.

Oh, now that the station has been identified, back on topic.

My second baby is a wonderful baby, very normal, nice baby. Yep, product of me and my hubby.

My first, I don't know, sort of odd, no, not retarded, very intelligent, a, damn it, will not say it, my baby, very, how should I say, very controlling.

I once ran across a piece of work, called, Alarune,
Quote:
German novelist Hanns Heinz Ewers published a novel entitled Alraune in 1911. The novel deviates from the myth by concentrating on the issues of artificial insemination and individuality: genetics versus environment. A scientist Professor Jakob ten Brinken, interested in the laws of heredity, impregnates a prostitute in a laboratory with the semen of a hanged murderer. The prostitute conceives a child who has no concept of love, whom the professor adopts. The girl Alraune suffers from obsessive sexuality and perverse relationships throughout her life. She learns of her unnatural origins and she revenges herself against the scientist, her "father".

Alarune



Yeah, like a female Frankenstein. I have always wondered about her, she is not what I would call normal, but what the heck, who am I to say.

But I am humourous, fun, love to make jokes, PolyAnna attitude, but not her, she is funny but more likely in a black humour sort of way, way mature beyond her years. I am really beginning to wonder, I a woman, born to serve, and let's face it, I have spent most of my youth, as a slut slave, give birth to a Super Bitch?

Well, the AntiChrist. Hahhaha, for men, yeah, suckers, I have given birth to something that may end your evil winding ways. Welcome, welcome, my child, may your path be littered everywhere with dead and decaying males, emasculated, and castrated. Leave something for Mommie, Daughter Dearest.

-

Yeah, another night in the rathole, another night in the dungeon.

As I heard in a movie, once, now that you are dead, what are you going to do with the rest of your life? I do believe that rats live better and cleaner than humans. Animals at least live clean, and in accordance with their environment, but humans are too stupid. They do not know one disease from another. They live and continue to live in filth, nasty stuff and disease.

Well, St. Theresa, I ain't. Confucius once said that you cannot love everybody equally. Love follows the inverse square law of distance, the further you go from somebody, it decreases dramatically.

I try hard not to see those people as objects, they are human beings, but it is getting increasingly difficult. You ever seen a green paper box? Yeah, cute little box, nice and shiny, and my first instinct is to reach out throw it on the ground and stomp it. Hehhehehhe, such an ecstasy I get in its destruction. And now, sometimes I want to reach out to those people, throw them down to the ground and stomp them.

Oh, damn daddy, did not want this stupid fucking job. Blow me, blow me, Blow my fucking mind.
Yeah, like the ancient Beatles Tune, Gotta good reason, for taking the easy way out. It is another world in here, baby, another world. Bang!!

-

I apologize, or is it apologise, which ever you prefer. Want to make it correct, for as George Bernard Shaw once remarked, UK and USA, two countries separated by the same language.

Forgive me for having a sense of humour, (humour?). Forgive me for being female, and especially for being female with one.

....and especally forgive me for being American, was born here, but my ancestry is from East Europe. But that is worse in the eyes of you German ethinic groups. As far as Hitler said once of my group of people, we are worth nothing more than potato farmers.
I suppose so, but, I am a history buff, it was the son of a potato farmer that put an end to his dreams of grandeur at the Battle of Stalingrad.

You want me to say I am shit, Ok, I am shit. Satisfied? Good, I want you to be happy, after all I am your slave, and my happiness in essentially of no consequence.

Once I stayed for three months in a Dominance/submissive relationship with a Master. I could not walk on two legs, I had to crawl on all fours, had to eat out of a bowel. But He was a real Master, never once did He raise His voice or get angry with me. Because He knew. Yes, He was comfortable with His station and position in life. He had control.

But sorry again, your last rant sounds so pathetic, so insecure, so desperate.
Heh, like those johns who used to pick me up on street corners. So nervous.

Ahh, damn, it is time like these that make me agree with Valerie Solanas and her "SCUM Manifesto".

Have a nice trip through life. Oh, well, if you beat to an inch of my life, maybe that would please you. Beat me, baby, beat me, I love


-

itIt is morning, and you wake up, still in bed with
me. You think, maby you could crawl out of bed and
escape, but you don't know exactly where you are, and
know the dog would soon track you down. Also, you know
what a severe beating you would get if cought. But, he
is going to beat you anyway, so why not give it a
chance. You slowly get to the edge of the bed, and I
am still sleeping, so you get up. So far, so good! You
slip on your sweater, and your jeans, find your shoes,
and quietly open the door. It squeeks a bit, but
slowly opens, and you are out! You see his car, and
quietly open the door and get in. If you follow the
road out to a main road, you will make it easily. The
key is in the ignition, and you turn it, and the
engine begins to crank noisily. "Come on, start, damn
it! Start!" It just keeps turniing over, but won't
start. You look up, and there is thatsadistic bastard
at the door, laughing. He has a wire in his hands.
"You don't think I would leave the coil wire in the
car, do you? You stupid cunt, get your ass over here,
you still havn't learned your lesson!"
You think about locking the car doors, but he says,
"And don't think about locking the doors, because I
have another key, and it will just get me madder if I
have to come over there and get your miserable ass!"
You just open the door, and slowly walk back to the
cabin. He walks out to meet you, and slams his hand
into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. You
fall to the ground, and he kicks you hard in the side,
and kicks you again. You roll over, and he kicks you
again, right inbetween the legs. Your hands go to your
cunt to protect it, and he grabs your hair, pulls you
to a kneeling position, your eyes are closed in pain,
and the next thing you feel is a kick right on your
right tit
You roll over in the dirt screaming in pain. "Now
get your worthless ass off the ground and come with
me!" He pulls you up by your hair again, and drags
you over to an old rusted swing set frame. "Take your
clooaths off, right now!" You know there is no use
trying to beg or run, so you lift the sweater off over
your head, bare beneath, and then undo your pants, and
step out of them. Your sneekers are still on, but that
is all.
He pulls your right hand up, and fastens it to the
top of the swing set frame, then your left hand, tying
them about five feet apart. He ties a rope to your
left foot, and pulls it over to one leg of the set,
then a rope to your right foot, and ties it over to
another corner leg. You are stretched nicely now, both
feet wide, but still touching the ground, and your
hands stretched up and out, totally vulnerable. "You
are going to get the fuckin' beating of your life
today, you stupid bitch. You are never going to forget
this day as long as you live!"
Walking over to a shed, he comes back with a few
birch sticks, very springy, and a roll of tape. Taking
five of the nicest switches, he lines them up so the
ends are even, and tapes the five together, forming a
handle."God, I am going to enjoy hearing your
screams!" He stands just to the left of you, and
swings the vicious switch right at your tits. It hits,
and the pain you feel is exquisit, burning into your
body. "AARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH", You have
never felt anything like this in your life. He smles,
and looks at you. "That is one, now for the next 59!
and since I am going to be enjoying this so much, you
had better count for me, or I just might keep going
till I cant lift my arm any more, or your tits just
dissapear." "Now, how many was that?"
"One!" you say, not knowing how you are going to
withstand 49 more.
Swish....Twack!
"AAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH...two!"
AAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH..........Thre e"
And the whipping continues. Your tits are bleeding
by the count of eight, and your screaming is
continuous by twelve.

-

Your tits are whipped so hard you are screaming.
Each time you pass out, smelling salts revive you, and
you continue to beg for the whipping on your tits to
end. The count is up to 20, and i finally stop for a
moment. "Please, please, no more! I just can't stand
to take any more on the top of my tits!"
"Well, lets just see where else I can whip your
worthless ass. Yes, probably your ass will do for a
bit." I untie your feet from the bottom of the swong
frame, and toss the ropes over the top. Yanking on
them, I pull your legs up, and wide, and tie them off.
Now your hanging my your arms and legs with both legs
wide open exposing your cnt, and your ass. "This
should work out nicely, don't you think?"
"Oh, God, NO! Don't whip my cunt, nooooooooo!"
taking the switch in my hands I slowly start to tap
the supple birch twigs on your cunt. It doesn't hurt
yet, but you know it will very soon. "Please, I won't
try to run away again, I promise." You are begging
now, and crying. Just the way I love to hear my women
beg and cry. I can see the fear and pain in your eyes.
I step back, and as I start to swing the switch,
step forward, snapping my wrist. It lands full on your
cunt, hitting both lips and the clit at the same time.
"AARRRRRAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" What a nice
result. Four more hits, and you are blabbering again
about the pain and how you will always obey me, and
never make me angry again. "I guess that is enough for
your little cunt, but your ass looks like it could use
a few stripes. All the other marks are sideways, now i
can give it a few up and down." With that, I start to
whip your ass cheeks, making a nice criss-cross
pattern. A good twenty, ten on each cheek, and you
almost cant scream any more.
I finally stop, and undo your hands, letting you
hang just by your spread feet. Your cunt is still
gaping, and you fear the worst. But I just walk around
to your front, and say, "Now hanging this way, look at
how nice the bottom of your tits look, hardly a mark
on them from this side." Your tits are hanging down,
but since you are hanging from your feet, they are
realy in an "up" position, exposing the underside. I
quickly start to whip them, making the job complete.
You are constantly screaming now, but it is getting a
bit week, and your voice is going. It is just a
rasping sound now, and I look at you, and ask, "Now
how would you like for me to stop, and let you suck my
cock for a while?"
"Oh, yes, please let me suck your cock. I will do
the best i can for you."
I strip off my cloaths, and put my cock into your
open mouth, and you proceede to give my cock the best
sucking I have ever gotten.
I finally undo your feet, and you are too week to
stand, so I carry you into the cabin, tossing you on
the floor. "Roll over on your back cunt." you quickly
roll over, your ass in pain from the beating, but you
do not complain. I straddle your body, and kneel down,
facing your feet, with my bare ass on your sore tits.
Shoving back a bit, my ass is at your face. "I need to
take a good shit, so I want you to make sure non of it
gets on the floor." You see my ass begin to widen, and
know you aer going to have to eat some smelly shit,
but at least you are not being beaten, so you lick my
hole, tasting the shit as it starts to come out. You
are licking it as fast as it emerges, so you only have
to eat a bit at a time, but then a good turd comes
out, filling your mouth. It is soft, so you don't have
to chew it, just swallow. When it is gone, you are
done. "Now lick my sweaty ass clean, and use your
tongue." When you have finished, I get up, and give
you a good kick in the ass. "Now get this place clean,
I just might have some friends over to use you, and I
don't want them to think you are a lazy whore."

-

Heck, your funeral, but I will miss you pissing on me, as I kneel before you, stripped, beaten, with whip marks all over my body, hands tied behind me, my eyes watery with all that crying, eyes black with the massive face slapping you gave me.

Heck, even better, hoist me upside down, put a candle down my pussy, and watch all that hot wax melt down my pussy, and me whining in agony.

[MKP4]

Yeah - I miss her too sometimes.

[Sodoman]

You forgot the toilet bowl tongue in the scat forum!!!



This idea saves on toilet paper!

[MarcEdeSade]

Wow, eh? what a psychotic bitch.

Had a crush on it. Would have loved a few hardcore sessions, or just a game of chess...whatever the gender, eh? Insane/creative is just plain FUN, whatever the weather.

Where'd ya go, gal? I miss ya!

[MKP4]

The great thing about G4 is that she's definitely a 47 year old male accountant from Arkansas. But ya still gotta love her.

[Joanna]

For her fans she is still here she is tormieda nowadays

I don't have anything against her but I quit trying to understand her a long time ago way to confusing LOL

[gal4]

Well, I am actually, 63, and live in Alabama.

And I am retired civil service person. Yeah, spent 37 years working for the Dept of Army.

No, shysnale, I am not one of those 18 year old bimbos, that you would like to keep locked up in those stinking French wine cellars.

and no, my name is not Herb. But you all can call me that.

Yeah, you believe this?

Would I lie?

[ChiTownHoney]

wow.....obsessed much?

[Joanna]

Originally Posted by ChiTownHoney

wow.....obsessed much?

funny thing is her 1300024 or whatever number other ids here seem no where near as popular as gal4 lol