Michael Marrotti

The Wilted Hipster

The last fat bitch I fucked made me cum after thirty minutes of slippery penetration. That’s what I like about fat women; you can truly enjoy yourself instead of busting a sticky load within two minutes. Sexy women just make me cum too quick, and I’m out for longevity.

Her name was Mandy and her colossal panties smelt like Chinese food. When life becomes redundant, I often take solace in the scent of her panties. Usually, afterwards I order wu-tang chicken as I bitch and rant on my blog. The food is never delivered on time.

I’ve been running my blog for two years now with barely any interaction whatsoever. People on the web just don’t give a fuck about what I have to say. I never would’ve thought that people worldwide could be as callous and pretentious as they appear to be. To tell you the truth, I’m kinda inspired by it.

My phone rarely rings, but when it does it’s either a bill collector from a third world country going by the moniker of John when their English is atrocious, or it’s my girlfriend Gina. I better answer that.


“Hello, Vito. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now. What the fuck?”

“Sorry, Gina. I’ve been busy on my blog, and waiting for Chinese food. It still hasn’t arrived.”

“Oh, that’s great. Obsessing over your stupid blog instead of sticking your dick in my poor lonely pussy… There is no reason someone as sexy as me should have to resort to masturbation.”

“Look Gina, I’m gonna have to call you back. The Chinese food finally arrived, and I’m starving. Don’t worry, my eager cock will be there soon.”

“It better be. I’m all hot and worked up over here. I want you inside me. I miss you. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

If she only knew I fucked fat bitches on the side. Wow. That would be devastating. It might even drive her to suicide. What a dick thing to do. Cheat on your super sexy girlfriend with fat bitches. I should feel ashamed, but all I feel is hunger. I’m gonna go vigorous on this wu-tang chicken.

Gina’s small apartment is located in the nicer part of town, in Dormont. The cheap beer flows like the Allegheny river, the town drunks are all cordial, and most of the residents wanna fuck my sexy girlfriend.

Jesus Christ… I enjoy fucking fat bitches.

Here we go again. Another predictable night.

I knock twice on the door, and Gina answers it wearing nothing but my old Manic Mike And The Mood Stabilizers T-shirt. She must be excited to see me. Her rock hard nipples are damn near piercing through the T-shirt.

“Vito! Come on in, grab a class of Chianti. Take your clothes off, spend time with me…”

I’m treated like a king with a giant platinum scepter for a penis. I don’t deserve this treatment, but I kindly oblige. If it wasn’t so fucking predictable, I’d probably be content. Every day seems like a rerun.

Even the whole fat bitches thing is staring to get old.

My ice-cold Chianti isn’t going to be cold for long. I didn’t even have time to drink more than a sip before Gina slid my average-size penis down her throat.

She’s slurping away and making a pig out of herself, just like she always does, all the while with a twinkle in her eye. I’m fondling her perky C-cups and thinking how lucky I am to have such a hot, determined fuck tool by my side. I throw her sexy ass on the bed and slip it in, doggy style. Three minutes later I bust my load on her pretty little face.

I tell her I love her, then focus on my blog as she sleeps. Her snoring problem gotta go.

Still no action on my blog.

Well, ain’t that predictable. Bunch of antisocial media motherfuckers! All these dorky fucking assholes can fuck off! I’ve wasted years on this blog with no fucking benefits! I’m shutting this fucker down. This blog and redundant lifestyle are finished! It’s over!

In the morning I go to Marrotti’s Coffee to get my fix. This seems like a good place to relax. A good place to ponder the possibilities, and hopefully a good place to empty my asshole.

“Hi, I’d like a triple shot of espresso with a side of seltzer water, please.”

The hipster nerd with his red glasses and his pointy beard says, in a condescending manner, “You sure about the seltzer water? People never order that with espresso in this shop. Most bona fide bean enthusiasts relish in the aftertaste of espresso.”

“Well personally, I could give a fuck about what your other customers are enthusiastic about. I didn’t come here to engage in contentious conversation over fucking coffee, bro. I came here to figure some things out, and take a healthy shit.”

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t permit people who chase their espresso with seltzer water to shit on the premises.”

“You fucking hipster piece of shit! Go and get me the goddamn manager, right now!”

“I am the manager, seltzer boy.”

And that’s all it took for me to feel alive again. A new life experience. I’ve never hit a man with glasses, but once I finally did, it felt better than any of the times I fucked fat bitches or any of the times I shot cum in Gina’s pretty little face.

This belligerent hipster fuck went flying into the espresso machine. He whimpered like the little bitch he truly was. Those stupid fucking red glasses were broke into pieces, and the pieces of my life were put back together.

Miraculously, I avoided jail. Maybe that fucking hipster had it coming. People around here are sick their shit. The whole demeanor of a hipster is that of a contemptuous know-it-all asshole. It’s a free country, do what you want, just don’t do it around me. And shave that ridiculous beard.

I told the story to Gina, who offered me her asshole for the first time as a celebratory gift. Her untouched, bleached-out asshole is finally mine! Something new! Can’t be mad about that. We stunk up the bedroom and she shit out my seed as I created a new blog called ‘The Wilted Hipster.’

It’s doing great. I’m finally getting the recognition I deserve.

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