I just woke up, and I did not expect to deal with this shit. Lexi Vixi? This bitch is the final boss of bounciness. All she does is work out, get in front of the camera, and bounce like a bouncy castle, bouncing her way to my cock. I would love to give a proper introduction, but all I see is a pair of perfect titties, impossible beauty standards, and a whole lot of bouncing that makes my primal senses howl like a wolf.
This bitch is now on Telegram, and Telescope is slanging her contact info like it’s nothing. Genuinely, I have to applaud whoever is behind Telescope and has to collect these bitches like Pokémon. If I had the job that dude has, I would be masturbating for half of my shift and do my actual job for the other half. Hold on, I am already doing that shit. Not to cross intimate boundaries here, but I already busted a nut to Lexi Vixi, and I am sweating just looking at her. The fact that I have to message her for research purposes doesn’t help; it only makes me sweatier than a gym bro mansplaining hip thrusts.
So, I did the only thing that came naturally when I looked at her: I messaged her and told her to put a warning disclaimer for each photo she posts. I basically messaged her with the tone of a police agent who decided that her ass crack was suspicious activity. Yet, the only suspicious thing happening here is me spending more than enough of my free time looking at Telescope bitches like Lexi. But hey, it’s my job to do this shit. And if my personal FBI agent is reading this, I have something to say: Stop spying on me, you cuck, go find your own sexy Lexi and jack it off on your own time.
How Long Do I Have To Wait?
There’s one part of me that always fails to understand the need for social interaction with chicks who post their naked bodies on the internet for a living. The entire purpose I developed a personality, went to pubs around town, and started talking to women is because I couldn’t have a bitch like Lexi wrapped around my sexy churro. That was a while ago, but now? With a couple of clicks, I get to see Lexi naked, sweaty, and whacking her pussy for my enjoyment. So, remind me again, why do I need to text her on Telegram? I can already get what I am here for without saying a single word to Lexi; she doesn’t have to know about my existence. Plus, it's not like I am here because I am in love. I just want to fap like a maniac and leave after the dirty deed is done. So, for the love of god, tell me why do I have to do these extra steps of messaging Lexi, flirting with her, wait for her goddamn reply just so I can see the titty?
If that is not torturous enough, then the response waiting time is sure to finish me off (not in a good way). Like, seriously. Lexi takes her sweet time responding, like an alcoholic enjoying his last glass of whiskey on the table. So why the fuck should I sit here, stare at my monitor screen, re-read the message I sent her, feel like a complete waste of space, and then, after all of that is over, I get to see a titty? This feels like a punishment; it doesn’t feel like personal interaction. Interaction is when you talk to someone directly, when their full attention is focused on you, for hours! This shit with Lexi’s Telegram? This is a pathetic excuse of human interaction. Why does she even have a Telegram in the first place? Imagine if I were doing what she is doing right now. I would open up the gates of Telegram hell, beg you to message me, and then leave you high and dry until I decide that you are worthy of a reply. Does that sound sane to you? I’d rather shoot Lexi a horny email and wait for a response than do this bullshit.
Living In A Stupid World
Do you know what I am doing right now? I am sitting still, smoking a cigarette, and in my head I have " Material Girl " by Madonna playing on repeat. I am not even listening to that shit; it’s just my brain playing funny games on me. Is it trying to tell me something? Should I shoot Lexi some money and see if she responds faster?
Can I take a second to talk about how stupid the whole money rules the world concept is? We take a piece of paper and decide that we are going to spend a good chunk of our lives gathering as many green pieces of paper as we can, just so we feel worthy enough of Lexi Vixi or any other hot, trashy girl on the internet. Do you realize how insane it sounds when you put it that way? I feel like I was born in the wrong generation. I should’ve been born in the 40’s, slanging haystack needles and working on a farm, having a loving housewife at home, you know…. The simple stuff. Instead, I am stuck here, messaging Lexi, waiting for her response like a stupid ass motherfucker.
Instead of me being a gloomy motherfucker, wishing for a life I would never have. Let’s focus on what we do have: a response from Lexi Vixi herself. After waiting 40 minutes, she decided that my text message was worthy of her attention. Thanks, Lexi, you defined my self-validation yet again. I told her to put two stop signs on her titties and a traffic cone up her ass. I never meant that in an offensive way; I just think she would look good with an erect, pointy thing in her butt. It doesn’t have to be the stop sign; it can be my cock. But I am hundreds of miles away from her, so I would have to stick it in through the monitor, and I am not the type to send dick pics on the internet. What? You thought I would send my ginger-haired pubes and massive Nordic warrior to everyone on the internet? Well, think again. Loser. I play it cool, no matter how hot I am downstairs.
The What’s Your Name Syndrome
Yet again, I’ve hit another fucking roadblock. I think the clankers are back, and they are taking over Lexi’s Telegram chat. Why? Because she is obsessed with knowing my name. AGAIN! This is a mythical phenomenon that every girl on Telescope shares. You know how people exhibit strange reflexes and behavior, like biting their nails? Or picking their nose? Something similar is happening with Lexi and 90% of the bitches that Telescope slangs my way. That is, no matter how much I try to make small talk and get the goodies, they are always going to cockblock me and ask for my name. REPEATEDLY! It’s like having a teacher who constantly messages you and asks if you have done your homework. Except, I am not obligated to give Lexi my name, and she is not a teacher; she is an internet floozie who makes men horny for a living.
What happened to privacy? To anonymous interaction on the internet? If you are going to chat with me on Telegram, then why the fuck do you need my name? We are not closing a business deal here; I am not signing documents. I just want to see a hot piece of ass. Lexi, I am fucking tired of this game. I don’t know what your protocol for sending nudes is, but I don’t even want your nudes if you are going to be this obnoxious. I don’t want to be horny anymore; I just want to be happy. I don’t want to give my name away; I want to fap in peace and be a lazy anonymous bastard on the internet. Am I asking for too much here? Am I being an asshole?
