Rent boy

I'm copping a bit of heat from my fuckin' son of a bitch landlord. The prick's been through my dojo on an inspection and now he's complaining about the stains on the carpet. "Fuckin’ snail infestation!" I screamed as I read his bullshit notice telling me I hadn't been taking care of the place. I've now got a couple of weeks to take my big dick to fresh digs. I run my office from home so this limp dicked so-called tycoon is inadvertently inconveniencing the operations of Barred Young Buck Pty Ltd. He's gettin' a fuckin' invoice for his troubles.

But what can you do? I've started sniffing around new pads with the correct specs for my high standards. Plenty of bench space, shagpile carpets, a Jacuzzi and adequate room to mount a love swing are all required for the successful operation of a BYB manor. So far nothing's come up.

I've seen dog boxes that wouldn't even house one of my hot Nobbies, let alone the hairy pair. Places that have advertised city views don't have any good perve angles. And you can offer all the polished floor boards you want, but unless it's me doin' the buffing, not interested! So many fools are suckered in by fancy shit like architraves, high ceilings and all that other ornate crap. Fuck ornate! I judge a property on if it makes me wanna masturbate! (Though I admit that doesn't really narrow the field - even the Maccas drive through makes me wanna masturbate... mmm, those tasty little teens in brown uniforms.)

Hey, I'm a no frills kinda guy. As long as I can get my joy juices flowing I don't have any need for that fang shway, or whatever the fuck fuckin' bowl of rice shit it is. Fang shway= Fuckin’ gay! Simple arithmetic.

There has been one up side to this so far futile house hunt. Some realtors are fuckin' G.P (good pussy) and hell; just like in my line of work you can make an appointment for a private consultation. So I arranged to meet a juicy boxed lass at a prospective pad and set to work. As she showed me the house I was giving her a knowing grin; the irony that she was gonna be paying my first months rent was too funny.

I kept my cool for a while but when she sashayed into the walk in wardrobe, I struck. I slipped my throbbing meat key into her tight little dead lock and pounded her like an auctioneer's gavel hammering home a big sale. When I was about to jizz I even gave her the "Going once, going twice, going three times... SOLD!!" and blew my load on cue.

Yeah sure, the place was okay. But it had a musty smell that I just wasn't down with. I s'pose I'll just have to keep my eye on the market. So I can get back on the meat market. Word.