Saturday, August 5, 2017

Don't Insult My...

Don't Insult My Intelligence

I'm insulted by the way people talk to me, by the way authors write stories, the way people drive their cars, and by the way movies are made.  In my book (my mind), their are two types of people.  One type are the people who genuinely care about other people and respect them.  These people have manners.  The other group of people don't give a shit about other people.  They're selfish, ignorant, show no respect, and don't have manners.

I wrote Wee Wee's world the way people want to read a novel.  Whether it's horror or another genre doesn't matter.  I don't sugar coat anything.  How I feel is what I write because I want to connect with you at the level how you feel.  Does that make sense?  Too much detail and beating around the bush annoys me and comes across as deceitful, selfish, and disrespectful. Your time is valuable, so why should I waste it? My time is valuable, and I don't want you wasting it.  Am I right about this or not?

Wee Wee's World is a book written for how you feel.  You may not agree with it, but at least it gets the point.  Either you're going to like it or not.  There is no in between.  The in between is for the critics.  You know, those people out there who demand respect, but don't give it under any circumstance.

You want to be entertained?  Then Wee Wee's World is for you.
You want situations that you can relate too?  So do I.  You may not like the situation, but you can relate to it.

I'm not just talking about writing.  I'm talking about how humans communicate with one another.

Either you have respect for me or you don't, and how you communicate with me will tell the tale. I know my thinking here is idealistic, and I am realistic.  But I know quality entertainment, and I don't have time to waste your time writing a book that took me two years to write.  I wrote the book for a reason, and that reason is there's too many books out there that don't respect what you're really thinking.  You know what I mean.

By the way, in my last post, "I'm in a Titty Trance,"  here's the section of the novel where that's mentioned:

Chapter Twelve, Old Spermy

She almost jumped out of her skin. “You startled me, Leonard." "I apologize, Beverly. I didn’t mean too. Dad's fixing some of his famous cheese eggs and said it would be okay if I came back here to give you and Chad a gift I picked up while on a trip to Europe.” "That’s very thoughtful of you, Leonard. Thank you.” “It’s the same gift I gave Dad, but it’s so cool I thought you and Chad would love it too.” “Leonard, before you give us the gift, I have a little something for you.” I hesitated, unsure of where this was going. “Really, what is it?” She said, “Well, Harry doesn’t seem to like the way my tits turned out after the surgery. He thinks they’re too big. So you don’t know how much it meant to me when you told me you love my tits. Well, let me get to the point. I appreciated you telling me my tits look great so much that I’m going to let you massage them and suck on my nipples. Would you like that, Leonard?” I think I went into shock. In a daze, I said, “What?” She undid her blouse and took off her bra, and there they were. The most beautiful pair of D Cups I’ve ever fucking seen. Her nipples were hard as pebbles. My hands had a mind of their own and massaged the hell out of those wonders of nature. I took her up on the nipple sucking offer too. She was making moaning sounds and said, “That feels so good, Leonard. Don’t stop.” Unfortunately, a flashback of Carrie’s sister Cheryl’s tits popped into my thoughts, which led to another flashback of Cheryl laughing at my three-inch cock. The garrotes had fallen to the floor when I put my hands on Beverly’s tits, so I knelt down to pick them up. Beverly knelt down with me. My right hand never stopped massaging her right tit while feeling around the floor for the device with my right hand. I finally found it and had to force my hands off her tits to throw the device around her neck. We stood back up, and I resumed where I left off. With her eyes closed and moaning in ecstasy, she said, “What is this thing, Leonard?” I said, “It’s a new age neck massaging device with a patented laser beam heat element that penetrates your neck muscles all the way to your vertebrae.” She moaned, “Turn it on for me, Leonard.” I took the remote out of my pocket with my right hand, while my left hand continued feeling out her tits. I pressed the white button and then pressed the blue button under it. “Wow, that feels terrific,” she whispered, while I continued rubbing her rack. “I agree. Your tits definitely feel terrific.” The garrote tightened around her neck. She said, “Why is this thing getting so tight, Leonard?” Then she tried removing it with her fingers the way Harry did, but that only made it tighten quicker. That thing was cutting her fucking head off, and I didn’t give a shit. I continued massaging her boobs while her fingertips popped off, and blood sprayed out of her neck like a geyser. Even when she fell to the floor I fell with her. My hands never stopped rubbing her soft, voluptuous breasts. I was in a titty trance and couldn’t snap out of it, didn’t even want to snap out of it. Her kid was screaming on the floor next to me. I couldn’t hear him for a couple of minutes because of the carnival music and titty trance I was in. Chad’s screams got louder and louder until I snapped out of the titty trance. Probably five minutes after she was dead I stopped rubbing her titties. My attention was now turned to little Chad who was sitting on the floor next to Mommy. I couldn’t find the other garrote, so I got up off of Beverly and frantically looked around for it.

When's the last time you were in a titty trance? Today at the grocery store?  Yesterday at the gas station? Come on, don't insult my intelligence. 



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