M.P. Powers

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by horrorsleazetrash on September 23, 2010

M.P. Powers lives in Miami (or thereabouts). Recently nominated most likely to pull his cock out in a cafeteria full of deafmute and/or unsuspecting senior citizens, his bodily getup includes nary a foot to stand on, loose liverlips, pisspoor eyesight, thirtyseven hairs hung on a sparrow’s breast and a gall bladder of all evil (according to co-ed documentation). Recent publications include the failed blogzine “Three Bills: Me and My Fatass Girl-fiend.” More info here.

 

A Rainy Afternoon at Lester’s Diner

… and I was eavesdropping on the couple
who’d just moved into the booth
behind me.
“so,” he says, “do you wanna hear the real story,
or the made-up one?”

“the real one,” she says.

“alright, well… i had a date last night.”

“oh, good for you, tom. i’m so glad
to hear that.”

“so am i,” he says.

(pause) “well, how was it?”

“lemme put it
this way,” he says. he taps
his cup on the table, sighs. “hmmm. how do i tread
lightly here with the
words? okay. it’s like this: while you and the kids
were asleep
last night, I was up till three in the morning
getting my cock
sucked…”

“shhh… quiet down…”

“fuck that. i don’t care about any
of these people here.
one of the best nights I ever had.
and ya know what?”

“what?”

“she was much better than you
at giving head…”

“oh really?”

“yeah, really. you know why?”

“why?”

“coz she swallowed. you never swallowed
my batch.
not once.”

just then my bill arrived. i paid it.
left.
made a few presumptions
on the way to my car: divorcees.

she left him, completely ruined him,
has custody,
etc., etc.

and his blowjob stunk compared
to telling
her about it.

 

 

the ideal

for some reason
they all wanted to be john wayne

he was the ideal

strong
silent “dumb as a bag of hammers”
no bullshit

absolutely no
bullshit

except for the forty pounds of it
they found
hung up in his guts
when
he croaked

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