No man. She doesn’t want to take the helicopter to vegas for the weekend. We have a date at the rope swing. You know, right downriver from the nuclear plant. Once the sun goes down you can see the algae glowing…
Sorry dude. She doesn’t want to drive to Vermont in your new Mercedes to go new Audi shopping. She already left to go to Assateague island with me. We saw a bunch of dead horseshoe crabs. They smelled like shit. She even had one of the wild ponies take a selfie with her… Right before it started scratching its ass on the outdoor shower frame for like ten minutes.
Absolutely not homie. She doesn’t want a free 1,000 dollars from you. She’s too busy thanking me profusely for the peanut butter twix I bought her at the gas station.
She doesn’t want your “”no-strings-attached”” box of cannabis oil. She’s riding shotgun with me to pick up plain ole ganja outside the pizza place. Thats right, 50 bucks at a time. Sketchy black guy comes standard.
Honestly bro, I saw your tailspin coming the moment she said you sent her a winky face. You fucking chump. What the hell does she need your money for? Her daddy is a federal judge. I suppose I can’t be too mad at you though. I used to be you. (Except for the millions of dollars in disposable income) I even shook your hand. You could be a decent looking fellow if you didn’t spend all day getting fat as hell. But just keep doing what you’re doing man. Im sure you’ll find some game at the bottom of a nitrous oxide canister.
And… When you think of her, which I know you will. Just imagine me, the handsome stranger, running his hand up the back of her neck to grab a luscious handful of that thick, fiery red, Irish hair; then shoving my fat cock into her tight, little, horse rider, pussy… Imagine her squeals while the whole length of me pushes her guts till she shakes.
Thats a little too cruel. Lets end this story with a little moral.
Money can’t buy game.