The Girl Next Whore (free sample book excerpt)

I’m offering this filthy, free excerpt from my humorous, erotic, autobiographical novel “The Wingman Chronicles.” Enjoy!

She was a sweet looking girl-next-door with an infectious smile and strawberry blonde hair. She was a fan of mine who’d seen my show in the city and was a year older than me but looked twenty-three.

Noelle had “liked” a few Facebook statuses in the past, but lately was liking more and more of the filthy jokes, creepin’ tips, blogs and videos I’d post. I was doing my usual show pimping and left her a comment asking if she was coming to the next gig. Within a few minutes she sent me a private message telling me she wouldn’t miss it. She also mentioned that she had read a blog post of mine called “The Mental Orgasm” and wanted to know if I really had the ability to do that to a girl. I had barely finished reading that message before another one popped up. She apologized if she had offended me, explaining that she was a bit tipsy.
I certainly wasn’t offended, and I signed on and we began to chat. Noelle told me in subsequent messages how she was on the rebound, damaged, and on the prowl. In other words, my kinda lady.
“If you’re not married, I’ll fuck you,” she said.
“Well I’m not married. When are we doing this?” I replied.
“Would you think it was weird if I called you Daddy?” Noelle asked.
“Of course not,” I replied. “How is that weird?”
It’s a shame what this world’s come to where guys have a problem being called Daddy by a broad their cock is inside.
We exchanged numbers, and she immediately began sending me naked pictures of herself—tits, twat, even face.
“I’m not a pussy,” she said. “But you’ll delete them, right?”
“Of course,” I replied. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”
Obviously I didn’t delete them. Deleting naked pictures a girl sends you is like being given a pan of baked ziti and throwing away the leftovers. I’m Italian and my family would consider that sacrilege.
Although she didn’t ask, I reciprocated by sending her a picture of my cock. I photograph well and I like to show off the work.
“Wow. You like to hurt your victims, don’t you?” she said.
“I just like to leave my mark,” I responded.
“I can’t wait for you to leave it on me.”
“You look great naked.”
“Thanks.”
“How tall are you?”
“5’4…Petite. Yourself?”
“5’9.”
“Very nice. Perfect size for me to get on my knees while you pull my hair and I gag on your cock.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She asked me to come over, but I was in bed and in need of a manscape, so I declined and told her we’d get together soon. I fell asleep wondering if once the alcohol wore off, would she have inhibitions, or would it make her yearn for me more.
I got my answer the next morning when I woke up to find a Facebook message from her.
“Ha ha ha hope you wake up with a huge hard on!! ;)”
I was thinking about that message on the drive home from the evening’s show in South Jersey, and as I started to get wood I sent her a text.
“Hey what’s up?” I wrote.
“Fuck me,” she replied.
Ah, what a nice girl. I’d manscaped earlier so I was ready to make a good impression. I headed to the Brooklyn dive bar that she’d been slopping around for the better part of the evening.
I had barely got out of the car before she jumped up on me, pushing me back against it and passionately mauling me like the love of her life had just returned from war. She grinded her pussy against my cock, reaching down and feeling my hard-on as if she wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it in battle. I kissed her, looking into her wide eyes, which looked beautiful even if they were a little bloodshot. She was sloppy drunk, but still looked cute and innocent.
I kissed her and spun us around so that she was up against the car. Pulling her tits out of her teal blouse, I felt the lovely handfuls and sucked on them. They had the perkiness and firm nature of fake tits but were clearly real. I sucked on her nipple,
enjoying that first taste of tit, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some shady characters walking by.
Noelle lay back on the front of my Benz, sporting a sinister yet cute grin.
“Fuck me right here,” she said, as she ground her nails into my sides.
“Ahh, ahh … I would, but we might get shot. Let’s get you outta the ‘hood.”
She smiled and kissed me, feeling the back of my hair and putting her tongue in my ear.
I drove us the few blocks to her apartment as Noelle kissed my neck, rubbing my cock the entire time.
Noelle led me up into her abode, grabbing my ass while sticking her hands inside my tight jeans and boxer briefs.
“You want me lick your ass?” she asked.
“No … But we’ll find something for you to do,” I said.
Noelle responded by ripping my pants off and swallowing my cock like a fat guy trying to be inconspicuous as he devours a tray of free samples at the grocery store.
She had medium cock-sucking lips and they felt amazing as she undulated intensely, savoring all of my illustrious eight while cradling my balls and sucking on them as if they were cherry Jolly Ranchers. I pulled her hair and pushed her head down.
“Oh Daddy, your cock tastes so good,” she looked up and told me. “I’m choking
on it.”
She garbled some gibberish as she sucked me deeper and I jammed it down her throat. “That’s so sweet of you,” I said. “You fucking whore.”
Some girls don’t like being called degrading names, but given the fact that she was calling me “Daddy” and doing her best to “choke on my cock,” I knew she was different.
Noelle was amazing—from the feel of her mouth to her rhythmically varying positions, intense passion and impeccable attention to detail. When I finally came in her mouth she gave a thorough pornstar swallow, guzzling the massive load with enthusiasm. It was one of the most awe-inspiring blowjobs I’d ever received. “Oh my God that was great,” I said. “I’ll be ready to go again in a few minutes.”
We lay together on her bed, bullshitting, joking and flirting as anyone would on a first date.
“I usually get hard again quicker than this,” I said as we shared a cigarette. “I had a long day—did a show and drove five hours—but I’ll be ready to go again soon.”
“You wanna wait till another day?” she asked.
“No, no,” I said. “I just need a few minutes.”
She let out a sigh as she lay back and smiled, looking at me like it was prom night and I was about to take her virginity. “I really like you James,” she said. “You’re cool.”
“You’re cool, too, baby,” I said.
It was a genuine moment. Not the type of moment when you’re coming on a girl’s face, but something that could occur even if our genitals weren’t on display. Noelle kept grabbing at my flaccid dong, but I still wasn’t ready to go. I’m a guy who could go again and again, but she had sucked a lot out of me.
I fingered her. She felt so good—warm, gooey and sweet. I stuck my fingers in her mouth letting her slurp up her own secretions. Jealous of her enjoyment of the tasty treat I thought it was time I sampled it. I stuck my fingers back in her pussy and licked them. The sight of my enjoyment of her juice had already brought her near climax.
“Ohhh fuck me, Daddy!”’ Noelle moaned as her eyes crossed.
Instead I continued to tease her pussy, waiting for my cock to get back into battle position.
“I want it so bad! Ohh … Ohh,” Noelle persisted.
As she lay back and pushed my head down with her hands, I stuck my face between her legs. I liked the way she pulled my hair while I licked her clit. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to go down on a girl who had fucked me within minutes of meeting me, but damn, she had the best tasting cunt I ever ate. With some girls it was work to eat pussy—like eating a shitty meal at a relative’s house—but this was something I’d pay for again and again even if it was overpriced.
“Oh god, James … Oh … Fuck me Daddy, fuck me!” Noelle grabbed her tit and sucked her finger.
I subtly rubbed my cock on the bed, desperately trying to harden as I ate her warm cunt and squeezed her ass. I slapped her buttocks as I shot my tongue up inside her.
“I’m almost there,” I said, closing my eyes to conjure perverted thoughts and pressing my dong into the mattress.
I figured I could get her to where she was about to explode and then muster up some semblance of a hard-on inside her, and ride it out until she got off.
“I want that cock … Give me that big dick, baby. Give me that big dick,” Noelle insisted in her best phone sex operator voice.
I felt around, grabbing for my condom as my face remained buried in her crotch. I pulled up and got it open. Grabbing my cock for a few rubs, I pulled on the condom. My hard-on was back.
I pushed it inside her and began to thrust. The hardness immediately increased, taking me back toward maximum capacity. “Oh yeah, fucking so big, Daddy!” she yelled. Fucking so big.”
I sucked her tits as I thrust. “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me!” she continued.
I was back at full gyration, squeezing her ass as I pushed my cock in and out of her stellar vagina.
“You like that, you whore?” I said. “Are you my fucking whore?”
“Yeah, Daddy, yeah,” she panted. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“Come on whore, come on you fucking whore!”
I pulled her hair and thrust harder.
“Oh god,” I said. “Your tight pussy feels so good you whore. You like it? You like my cock? Is it big, baby? Is it big?”
“It’s so fucking big, Daddy! Fuck me with your big cock, Daddy!”
“That’s right, you fucking whore! You’re my fucking little slut! Little goddamn trollop … You need to be punished, you bad little girl!”
“Punish me Daddy, punish me! I deserve it! I deserve it, Daddy!
I reared back, almost all the way out and then pushed back in, powerfully slamming her tight cunt repeatedly.
“Oh god,” she said. “Hurt me Daddy! Hurt me! Ohhh…Ohhh.”
“You like that,” I said. “You fucking whore! You like that!”
I slapped her ass hard.
“Oh Daddy, I’m so fucking bad!” she said. “I’m so fucking bad. Am I your whore … Am I your whore?”
She let out a squeal. If it had been any higher, only dogs could have heard it. “Oh yeah, you fucking whore!” I said.
I squeezed her ass tight as she dug her nails into my back, and continued her high-pitched moan.“Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah Daddy!”
She was coming so hard that she sounded on the verge of tears. I continued to thrust through it.
“Ohhh,” Noelle moaned. “Ohhh … Ohhh … Ohhh.”
“You coming, whore?” I said. “You coming for your Daddy?”
“I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming, I’m coming again.”
I kissed her intensely, nibbling her lower lip as I thrust. The squeals continued until her constricting pussy ultimately pushed my cock out, leaving me soft and tired. I didn’t get off, but she had three intense orgasms.
We lay next to each other, relishing the experience.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re Daddy’s little whore, aren’t you?
“Yes I am,” she sighed. “Ohhh you’re the best Daddy in the whole world.”
“And don’t you forget it.”

To see what else happens with Noelle “The Girl Next Whore” and other broads and uncouth adventures order “The Wingman Chronicles” right here in paperback or Ebook.

The Wingman Chronicles available on Amazon

In the UK, order it right here!

Republicans are victims of poor marketing

By James Holeva

Conservative/Liberal… What sounds more exciting?

About a year ago a broad I knew told me that she was a Republican. I said, “Okay. So as for your beliefs are you completely Republican, completely Democrat, or kind of split down the middle?”

“I’m pretty conservative,” she said.

“Really?” I said. “Well you could have fooled me. I mean, when you blew me under the table at that Japanese restaurant, I thought you were pretty fucking liberal.

“Wait… Is that the reason you wouldn’t have a threesome with me?”

She was kind enough to enlighten me that the words liberal and conservative, in political terms, have nothing to do with what turns you on sexually. You could be into sticking rodents and reptiles up your ass, and it would have nothing to do with your political affiliation.

Based on Democratic Presidents John F. Kennedy and Bill Clinton’s prior sexual exploits, I thought if you were liberal politically it meant you were down for an uncouth adventure.

Whether you’re a Democrat or Republican, there is one certainty. The Republicans are victims of poor marketing.

Democrats are liberal, and Republicans are conservative.

But it has nothing to do with fucking. It’s merely about your thoughts on spending, taxes, health care, social security, foreign policy, immigration – issues that have no bearing on my life.

And I never would have known that if it wasn’t for this girl who liked to bang in public places, and voted for John McCain.

The word conservative is the worst marketing term I could think of. It sounds like a commercial for Catholic Television, or the 700 Club.

Think about it… When you meet a girl do you want to hear:

“Oh, she’s perfect for you. Real conservative. Turtleneck sweaters, long pants, granny panties… You put your hand on her knee and she’ll run away.”

Or, do you want a girl who’s liberal?

“This broad is liberal as fuck. She’s down for anything. Anal, orgies, you could stick it in her ear if you want. Just use lube. I learned the hard way.”

You’re trying to recruit boys in high school for your political party. What sounds better to them? They don’t know the issues. They’ll go with whatever makes it sound like the girls will put out more.

Liberal and conservative sound like one party has booze and whores, while the other just, isn’t a party at all. Call me old fashioned but when it comes to choosing which party to attend, I wanna be at the one where the broads are better in bed.

 

If you enjoy this check out my humorous, erotic, autobiographical “The Wingman Chronicles” in E-book & paperback format on Amazon and Amazon UK.

The Wingman Chronicles available on Amazon. Download, tell your friends, and leave a review!

The Wingman Chronicles on Amazon UK!

How to get laid on Halloween

   If you want to pick up a hottie on Halloween, you must strip her of her pussy power, before you strip her of her slutty costume...

Guys talk for months with excitement and glee about how excited they are to see broads sporting their most whorish Halloween attire.

The dudes prepare for the holiday of creepin’ by investing in a cool costume they think will catch the girl’s attention. They get their haircuts, perform the perfect maneuvering of facial hair, trim their balls and have the perfect lineup of creepin’ venues to make their move at.

It’s Halloween, and it’s on!

And what do many of these guys do when they arrive at the club, bar or party?

Hang with their group of guy friends, ogling the girls, talking about how hot they are, how sexy they dance, and what they would do to them. And what do they actually do?

Then they go home depressed, barely having even spoken to a girl, and jerk themselves to sleep. It’s pathetic.

Why would a guy go to a place full of scantily clad hos, I mean upstanding young women getting into the festive spirit, and not approach them?

It sounds like a waste of a costume, cash, and if they were the driver, gas. It’s like going to an all-you-can-eat buffet while you’re on a hunger strike.

Guys get around these hotties and become quivering babies, and that is the least attractive thing in the world to a girl. Even if a broad thinks you’re an asshole and finds you annoying, she’ll always have more respect for the guy who takes a shot than the guy who stands in the corner all night with the dudes like he’s at a junior high dance.

Girls love a guy with balls. That’s kind of hard to find these days so if you could at the very least fake like you have some, a girl who’s drunk and impressionable could buy it, and you might be lucky enough to get her in the bedroom, backseat or bathroom stall. After all it is Halloween, let’s get in the spirit.

Don’t walk up to a girl and say I like your tits, or great ass. Not because it’s rude or sexual harassment. No, no, no, because it’s what she wants you to say. Even if she acts all put off after you do, she’s secretly smiling on the inside of her slutty attire.

“Eeww… You’re gross. You have no respect for women. I hope you die” really translates to “Damn right you like my tits. They’re fucking perfect. This costume’s working. These guys all want to fuck me like an animal.”

Any girl who disputes what I’m saying, obviously has problems with the truth. But don’t give her the upper hand. Don’t make her think she’s perfect. The reason girls wear those scandalous costumes is to further enhance their pussy power. Don’t pander to it. Many girls who are only hot in makeup, stilettos and club light, grow heirs and treat guys like shit, because of the assholes that constantly swoon over them.

Make her wonder about you. Don’t fix your eyes on her tits, ass, or belly ring… Look her in the eye.

The reason is it’ll make her nervous, and therefore set you apart from the rest of the lecherous scavengers that have been questing after her. Suddenly she’ll be wondering:

“Why isn’t he looking at my boobs, why isn’t he looking at my ass, I’m dressed like a whore can’t he see that? Oh god, I look like shit. Excuse me while I go throw up.”

You made her vulnerable, downgraded her power, and gave yourself the upper hand…. You broke down the hype of the hottie. Now it’s time to carry on with a real conversation and see where the night takes you. A true player always preys on a woman’s vulnerability.

Happy Halloween! Be safe tonight… These girls are dirty.

If you enjoy my blog check out a free sample from my book “The Wingman Chronicles” on Amazon & Amazon UK.

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles available in E-book & paperback on Amazon

The Wingman Chronicles on Amazon UK!

Dumpster Diving Teaser

 

I sat in my friend’s living room with him and the evening’s bargain-basement prey, sipping Lion’s Head and talking nonsense as I counted the minutes till I could take her to the bedroom.

She was good looking in that slightly beat up, small town, simple minded, non-reading, a few teeth out of place kinda way. Eh, she was definitely adequate in my drunken state; as well as the chain-smoking, jack-swilling, staggering prom queen of the dive bar we were at.

I was surprised the grimy establishment didn’t have heroin needles strewn across the floor.

My friend would not stop with the incessant yammering, attempting to bond with my lady of the night. I was staying there because his house was in walking distance from the shithole he dragged me to.

“What do you do?” he asked her. “Have another drink. Would you like a Xanax to go with your beer?”

Shut the fuck up already! I wanna get laid. And for god sakes no Xanys… she’ll go right to sleep.

If she’s passed out before I could get laid that would be catastrophic. I might have spent three to four bucks on her at the bar. I was ready to get what I paid for.

I’m sorry he couldn’t wrangle a girl to bring back. I initiated opportunities, but I guess his ace pickup line — “I’m the greatest football player to ever come out of Lackawanna County” — wasn’t working on the dirt bar socialites.

Finally, I whispered to my girl to go to the bedroom, and as I was walking away my buddy grabbed me.

 

Look for “The Wingman Chronicles” hitting book stores in next year to read the rest of the story!

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