As I’m typing this post, I’m sitting here reading the article on Uncle Luke’s (Rapper Luther Campbell) latest fuckfest, um er performance, at St. Louis’ Sound Bar. During this particular show, the Godfather of freaky music got the girls to go down on each other for a prize of $1,000, and no one said a thing for several minutes. Finally a manager put a halt to it, but not before the shit was taped and sent straight to the internet.
The thing got circulated around Facebook and everyone had a good time peeking and skeeting to the recorded festivities, until some preacher decided to take it upon his holy self to seek out these fine, young tenders, uh-uh, young ladies to tell them they don’t have to do these glorious, um, hot, um uh, demeaning things on cam in front of a crowded club for pocket change. With his income as a preacher, he could surely make ten thousand rain on them in the back of the church in the pastor’s study early one Sunday morning.
Then there was more of the same, more of the same lying ass shit as when Mr. Preacher Man went on about wanting to guide these women, his mission went viral, and the news people came a calling.
All I want to know is, how many times did he jack off to that pussy munching before he cut the clip off and cleaned up his sticky fingers and his keyboard?
You know he did it. Same as that club manager who waited minutes before he went to stop it acting all appalled. In my circle we call them “ghost nuts“. It happens when you don’t even touch it. You just “unh-unh” in your pants and let the dribble run down your leg.
I’m sorry, but when I am utterly disgusted and offended, it doesn’t take me until after I’ve busted 10 nuts for me to go put a stop to things. I jump up first and don’t even think of putting my hand down my pants. Shit must be way different in St. Louis.
We all know it’s no different though with these vulture like men out here claiming to want to save wayward women. Change comes about through action, not words. What are your words going to do for women who have no problem acting on command to the tune of $1,000?
Mr. Preacher Man, sit your ass down. The club is closed down, and the owners are out here faking it just like you to the press stating their hate for Luke and his whore mongering ways. You’ve made your point about our voyeuristic society and how we’ve been ruined. Blah, blah, blah. If we were all correct and living proper, we wouldn’t need you. So shouldn’t you just shut up, jack to the licking, bob your head to the beat, and let these women do what they do?
The pews won’t be any less empty with sluts with lost souls come Sunday morning. You don’t have to try so hard next time. I hear other preachers are getting them to practically let them hit right on the first row during Sunday Service asking them to leave the panties at home in the drawer and spread those legs a little sum’-sum’ so they can decide which one’s club their going to shoot up when they come down from the pulpit once the spirit of that pussy aroma hits them and entices them down during their praise leading.
If you get your sermon right, sir, a flood of good pussy will come bowing to you too.
Some call me a prophet. I just say I’m a bullshit detector.
Either way, drop something in the offering basket of “The House of Good Pussy La Drama Princess”. Buy a copy of one of these freak books I’m serving. You can put it on your tablet so Sister Jenkins ain’t got to see the cover and know you like them filth books like you do. LaDramaPrincess.com