Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
Back in the ’90s I operated a titty bar called “The Bearded Clam”. It was an upscale joint, ya know what I’m sayin’? We did not discriminate at all against the Jews and the A-rabs, just the blacks. Even knife fights were rare in my joint! Who am I? Well, due to legal reasons I am told not to disclose my real name. So you can call me “Sal”.
We didn’t allow no prostitution in my joint, unless the guy gots money. If he gots money, then I would set him up in a back room I had fixed up in the back. I stored our cleaning products back there. But I threw a twin mattress on the fuckin’ floor and covered it up with plastic. Presto!! It is Casa La Amore. I would put da client back there with one of my goils, collect the guy’s dough, and set an egg timer for 10 minutes. You gotta “ding” before that bell rings! You know what I am saying? HA HA HA HA!!! Otherwise, I will have my nephews, Brutus and Hercules, drag your sport ass out to the pocking lot and beat the living out of you. Capisce? You get none of MY goils’ cooch unless ya pays me for it!
Well, that was a long time ago. Eventually I got pinched for taxes and the fucking IRS shut me down. They tried to put me away, but I told da feds a couple little stories I knew about some greaseballs we both know, and they cut me a deal. They gave me a new identity and set me up in the suburbs out in the Midwest. But now I am 78 years old and living in a retirement village in Florida. I run the numbers racket in here, see? I even got a couple of these old broads here on payroll. I pimp them out for a hundy a hump! It provides me with a little piece of spending money and keeps me outa trouble.
All in all, things could be worse. I could be rotting in some shit hole federal prison and sharing a cell with one of those jig-a-boos, I guess. Here at “Aging Acres” I got a roof over my head. I get 3 meals a day. I got a cute little Spanish chick with a tight little ass I slip a few bucks to every Saturday night to blow me while she sticks her finger up my ass. She looks like that ding bat in Congress. What’s her name? IUD? No, no.. wait… AOC!!! Yeah, that’s the one!
So, back in 1998, I think it was … Let me tell ya this story. Back in 1998, I think, I had this VIP come into my joint with his son. He was a real high roller. He said his name was Joe Diden, and that his son was Huntley Diden. These were obviously not their real names. I recognized that dirty motherfucker as soon as he set foot in my joint. He came into the joint with the kid, spent a lot of money at the bar, and bought several lap dances.
Both of them were wearing ties and coats, like they just came from their white collar jobs. But instead of pants, they was both wearing sweat pants. They thought they were being cute. They thought they was gonna rub their little pencil dicks up against my goils, through them flimsy pants. But I been in the business a long time, so I know these stupid games the assholes play. So I decided to keep a close eye on these two fucking perverts. One drop of jizz and I was going to put Brutus and Hercules on these two ding dongs, Sicilian style.
Well, I had business to attend to off the premises. I had this thing I had to do. I had to go get rid of a thing, Capisce? So I left my manager, Renaldo, in charge of the joint. He was a poof ball, but otherwise a good guy, and a hard worker. I figure a poof is good in this line of work because they won’t constantly be trying to fuck the goils, ya know what I mean?
Well, at around midnight me and my cousin, Johnny Lasagne, were finishing this task for which I took my leave from my joint. We were putting our shovels in the trunk of Johnny’s Monte Carlo when my cell phone rang. It was Renaldo. He was hysterical. It seems that those two sweat pants wearing motherfuckers were touching my goils and creeping them out. I told Renaldo to get Brutus and Hercules up there and wait for me to get back. I wanted to take a few whacks at these two fuckin’ gibrones myself for disrespecting my goils. I told Johnny, “Don’t take them shovels home just yet, ok?” He nodded.
When I got back to my joint I found Hercules applying a choke hold on Huntley. The kid’s face was already turnin’ blue. Daddy was busy trying to fast talk his way outa this shit with Renaldo. Brutus had Daddy’s pants and shorts pulled down and holding his nads tightly with a pair of pliers. His nads were turning blue too. Brutus was threatening to pop Joe’s nuts like a zit on some pimply face kid. I intervened.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!?”, I demanded to know. It turns out that the kid, Huntley, busted a nut through his sweat pants during a lap dance. This is a BIG no-no in the business, and gets ya a brutal ass kicking, you know what I fuckin’mean? These little pricks … I don’t know what kind of dick shriveling disease these fuckers have. I don’t want my goils exposed to that shit!! The first time one of my clients get the clap after dinkin’ one of my dick cozies and word gets out?!? I AM FUCKED!! This would fuck up my business like nothing else could.
Then, as if jizzing my juicer without paying weren’t bad enough, the old man started going up on stage and sniffing my dancers’ hair. It creeped the fuck out of my goils. I don’t blame them either. That is some weird shit right there! But it was when he started grabbing their tits and shit that he truly crossed the line. DON’T FUCK WIT MY WHORES!!! Otherwise, you is going THROUGH the fuckin’ door, amigo. Capisce?
Well finally this old prick got reasonable, probably because one of his balls blew out under the pressure of Brutus’s grip. Joe offered me $10,000.00 cash, for “my troubles”. I said, “Let me see da fuckin’ cash, ya degenerate maggot.” Hercules escorted Huntley to his Beamer to retrieve it. When they returned, Huntley was carrying a brief case and sporting a new shiner he did not have a moment before.
Huntley opened the brief case to expose what turned out to be nearly $20,000.00 in cash, along with a lot of doping paraphernalia and little baggies of coke and a bunch of rubbers. I closed the briefcase, then violently slammed the edge of it into Huntley’s balls. “I will take it all, you no good, degenerate prick”, I said. Huntley hid the floor hard. He laid there and was whimpering like the pathetic little bitch dat he is.
Then I walked over to the old man. He was staring at me with his mouth hanging wide open. I told the old fuck to empty his pockets. He was carried $2.34, a hotel room key, and a receipt from Ben and Jerry’s. I said, “You pathetic prick. Why can’t you act like a fucking MAN!!” Then I bitch slapped him. “WHAP!!!!”
Finally, I called my oriental goil, Ding Dong, over. I asked her if either of these two jerkoffs had touched her. She said the old guy sniffed her hair while he had his hands down his pants. I had Hercules make the old guy vertical. Then I said, “Ding Dong? I want you to shit on his fucking face!” She promptly obliged my request. After that I told Brutus and Hercules to ride both of these two cock suckers out into the middle of Gater Swamp and dump them out, then to sink their fucking Beamer into Wood Booger Bayou.
After dat I had one of my black boys clean up the mess. I went home and went to bed. That was the last time I seen them Diden boys. Good riddance, ya know what I am sayin? Ha ha ha!! What a couple of stupid fuckers, thinking they can do whatever they fucking please with no consequences. Fuck that!!
It weren’t long after that occurrence that I started having IRS problems. Heh heh heh!! Motherfuckers!! But I had my ace in da hole that old Joey did not know about. All I had to do was drop dime on a couple of swarthy drug king pins and PRESTO!! Not only am I a free man, but the feds are putting me up at their expense!!
We didn’t allow no prostitution in my joint, unless the guy gots money. If he gots money, then I would set him up in a back room I had fixed up in the back. I stored our cleaning products back there. But I threw a twin mattress on the fuckin’ floor and covered it up with plastic. Presto!! It is Casa La Amore. I would put da client back there with one of my goils, collect the guy’s dough, and set an egg timer for 10 minutes. You gotta “ding” before that bell rings! You know what I am saying? HA HA HA HA!!! Otherwise, I will have my nephews, Brutus and Hercules, drag your sport ass out to the pocking lot and beat the living out of you. Capisce? You get none of MY goils’ cooch unless ya pays me for it!
Well, that was a long time ago. Eventually I got pinched for taxes and the fucking IRS shut me down. They tried to put me away, but I told da feds a couple little stories I knew about some greaseballs we both know, and they cut me a deal. They gave me a new identity and set me up in the suburbs out in the Midwest. But now I am 78 years old and living in a retirement village in Florida. I run the numbers racket in here, see? I even got a couple of these old broads here on payroll. I pimp them out for a hundy a hump! It provides me with a little piece of spending money and keeps me outa trouble.
All in all, things could be worse. I could be rotting in some shit hole federal prison and sharing a cell with one of those jig-a-boos, I guess. Here at “Aging Acres” I got a roof over my head. I get 3 meals a day. I got a cute little Spanish chick with a tight little ass I slip a few bucks to every Saturday night to blow me while she sticks her finger up my ass. She looks like that ding bat in Congress. What’s her name? IUD? No, no.. wait… AOC!!! Yeah, that’s the one!
So, back in 1998, I think it was … Let me tell ya this story. Back in 1998, I think, I had this VIP come into my joint with his son. He was a real high roller. He said his name was Joe Diden, and that his son was Huntley Diden. These were obviously not their real names. I recognized that dirty motherfucker as soon as he set foot in my joint. He came into the joint with the kid, spent a lot of money at the bar, and bought several lap dances.
Both of them were wearing ties and coats, like they just came from their white collar jobs. But instead of pants, they was both wearing sweat pants. They thought they were being cute. They thought they was gonna rub their little pencil dicks up against my goils, through them flimsy pants. But I been in the business a long time, so I know these stupid games the assholes play. So I decided to keep a close eye on these two fucking perverts. One drop of jizz and I was going to put Brutus and Hercules on these two ding dongs, Sicilian style.
Well, I had business to attend to off the premises. I had this thing I had to do. I had to go get rid of a thing, Capisce? So I left my manager, Renaldo, in charge of the joint. He was a poof ball, but otherwise a good guy, and a hard worker. I figure a poof is good in this line of work because they won’t constantly be trying to fuck the goils, ya know what I mean?
Well, at around midnight me and my cousin, Johnny Lasagne, were finishing this task for which I took my leave from my joint. We were putting our shovels in the trunk of Johnny’s Monte Carlo when my cell phone rang. It was Renaldo. He was hysterical. It seems that those two sweat pants wearing motherfuckers were touching my goils and creeping them out. I told Renaldo to get Brutus and Hercules up there and wait for me to get back. I wanted to take a few whacks at these two fuckin’ gibrones myself for disrespecting my goils. I told Johnny, “Don’t take them shovels home just yet, ok?” He nodded.
When I got back to my joint I found Hercules applying a choke hold on Huntley. The kid’s face was already turnin’ blue. Daddy was busy trying to fast talk his way outa this shit with Renaldo. Brutus had Daddy’s pants and shorts pulled down and holding his nads tightly with a pair of pliers. His nads were turning blue too. Brutus was threatening to pop Joe’s nuts like a zit on some pimply face kid. I intervened.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!?”, I demanded to know. It turns out that the kid, Huntley, busted a nut through his sweat pants during a lap dance. This is a BIG no-no in the business, and gets ya a brutal ass kicking, you know what I fuckin’mean? These little pricks … I don’t know what kind of dick shriveling disease these fuckers have. I don’t want my goils exposed to that shit!! The first time one of my clients get the clap after dinkin’ one of my dick cozies and word gets out?!? I AM FUCKED!! This would fuck up my business like nothing else could.
Then, as if jizzing my juicer without paying weren’t bad enough, the old man started going up on stage and sniffing my dancers’ hair. It creeped the fuck out of my goils. I don’t blame them either. That is some weird shit right there! But it was when he started grabbing their tits and shit that he truly crossed the line. DON’T FUCK WIT MY WHORES!!! Otherwise, you is going THROUGH the fuckin’ door, amigo. Capisce?
Well finally this old prick got reasonable, probably because one of his balls blew out under the pressure of Brutus’s grip. Joe offered me $10,000.00 cash, for “my troubles”. I said, “Let me see da fuckin’ cash, ya degenerate maggot.” Hercules escorted Huntley to his Beamer to retrieve it. When they returned, Huntley was carrying a brief case and sporting a new shiner he did not have a moment before.
Huntley opened the brief case to expose what turned out to be nearly $20,000.00 in cash, along with a lot of doping paraphernalia and little baggies of coke and a bunch of rubbers. I closed the briefcase, then violently slammed the edge of it into Huntley’s balls. “I will take it all, you no good, degenerate prick”, I said. Huntley hid the floor hard. He laid there and was whimpering like the pathetic little bitch dat he is.
Then I walked over to the old man. He was staring at me with his mouth hanging wide open. I told the old fuck to empty his pockets. He was carried $2.34, a hotel room key, and a receipt from Ben and Jerry’s. I said, “You pathetic prick. Why can’t you act like a fucking MAN!!” Then I bitch slapped him. “WHAP!!!!”
Finally, I called my oriental goil, Ding Dong, over. I asked her if either of these two jerkoffs had touched her. She said the old guy sniffed her hair while he had his hands down his pants. I had Hercules make the old guy vertical. Then I said, “Ding Dong? I want you to shit on his fucking face!” She promptly obliged my request. After that I told Brutus and Hercules to ride both of these two cock suckers out into the middle of Gater Swamp and dump them out, then to sink their fucking Beamer into Wood Booger Bayou.
After dat I had one of my black boys clean up the mess. I went home and went to bed. That was the last time I seen them Diden boys. Good riddance, ya know what I am sayin? Ha ha ha!! What a couple of stupid fuckers, thinking they can do whatever they fucking please with no consequences. Fuck that!!
It weren’t long after that occurrence that I started having IRS problems. Heh heh heh!! Motherfuckers!! But I had my ace in da hole that old Joey did not know about. All I had to do was drop dime on a couple of swarthy drug king pins and PRESTO!! Not only am I a free man, but the feds are putting me up at their expense!!
