Tambourine Man
Bio
Stories (84/0)
Red Truck Douche Bag
Walking down the street is hazardous. I must have a sign on me that says Run Me Over. On the back it says, Stay Safe. The monster idiot drivers of the country are so intent on running people over. And wonder why pedestrians don't get out of their way. With a cocky attitude to boot. While I am struggling to understand it all. Let us name him, Sam. He wondered why I stepped out in front of him. I was simply walking around a parked car. In the meantime, this confusion almost cost me my life. Karma almost had him. Made him open his eyes to the road.
By Tambourine Man22 days ago in Poets
Screaming for Help
Last night, I yelled that I hated my father, at the top of my lungs, twice. It was a very uplifting experience. My body now aches from that process. It was something that had to happen. My morning walk to HEB was also Grand! I said good morning to half a dozen employees. That, I had never done before. Perhaps my rage from last night triggered kindness. Very interesting concept. Sidenote, my best friend, Lacie, started taking her medicine again! Maybe both of us had an eye-opening experience. Controlled by an overwhelming urge to connect with the twisted fate with time?
By Tambourine Man23 days ago in Poets
Hungry Always
Being 6'1. 180 lbs. I am always hungry with a veracious appetite. High metabolism does not help at all. Only intensifies the lust for food. Appetitive behavior, or so they. Calories burning in my forgotten body. Consumption a must. Proven that hamburgers are tasty. As I search for a reason for this problem, I wonder how others' deal with it? I am not the only one with this sinful pleasure.
By Tambourine Man24 days ago in Poets
Freak On A Leash. Content Warning.
Beth and I are the right fit for each other. We click and enjoy the same things. And she has a wild, kinky, erotic side. Which I thoroughly enjoy. The second time we hung out we made passionate love. She scratched my back and let me pull her long red hair. As well as saying Yes Sir, as we fucked roughly. For a younger woman of 31, with two kids. Aged 5 and 9. Petering out for a meal ticket and a pat on the back, that is not well-deserved. Just another psycho bitch I have picked up in my shattered life.
By Tambourine Manabout a month ago in Poets
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