Posted on 9:57 PM by Tony Spunk

I've got this cousin Alberto (Bert) who's a little bit simple. He's about two years older than me, fat as a butterball and when we were kids my uncle Dick used to bring Bert to our house while he and my dad were out carousing and expect me to look out for him.

You know how kids are. They spot a weakness and they will exploit the living shit out of it for their own amusement, so old Bert had a pretty rough ride of it at times. He still wanted to come back though so either he was more simple than we thought or he just liked punishment. He was a pretty nice kid and I teased him mercilessly but we got along great for the most part.

One hot, dry summer day my ma was at work at Caesar's and Bert, who was inexpliqably wearing a tennis headband and some atrocity made of velour, and I were hanging out at my aunt Lola's ranch. I was probably ten at the time and Bert was about twelve.

So we're in the barn and we find this big wooden box. A chest. And so we open it up and there is all sorts of stuff in there. How can I put this delicately? Lady things. Lady things that ladies like to use to feel good. And pink fluffy handcuffs. And some things I couldn't even hazard a guess at. Bear in mind Lola was a genuine whore by trade.

There was an alarmingly huge black vibrator called "the Violator" that was big and wrinkled and rubbery and looked exactly like a gigantic cock, so I knew it was something dirty. It even had batteries in it.

Anyway, we were pretty bored so I got this idea to tell Bert that this big black cock was a weapon. A really cool weapon like a light saber that only cool kids had. Of course Bert wanted that big black abominable cock like it was a freaking milk shake. By the time I handed the Violator over to him he was virtually peeing his pants with excitement. I'd persuaded him to play a game called "Save the ranch from the enemies" and that "the enemies" were the horses in the nearby field. Bert must've chased those poor horses around that field for an hour while making swishing light saber noises with that big buzzing penis.

That was so successful I persuaded him to run inside and pretend to attack Lola with his "light saber", which he dutifully did, just as she was serving dessert to four of her girls and their clients, who included a local politician. Let me say nothing can really prepare you for a twelve year old fatty in a tennis headband, brandishing a giant black cock and screaming about taking prisoners. The looks on the faces of those people will live with me forever.

God bless you Bert you old dog.

The Crazyness That Is Man

Posted on 2:52 PM by Tony Spunk

I really sort of dig reading the search queries that bring people by this here hole in the wall blog. Sadly they’re not going to win prizes for variety although I wonder how much a guy who searches for “I want you to spunk on my boots” gets out of his visit? To my knowledge I haven’t covered the topic of spunking on footwear. You can’t go wasting your seed on boots, man. Save it for boobies.

To the person who wanted to know “where can I spank some midgets” I have no idea, truly and I’m sorry you must have been seriously disappointed.

The guy (I assume it can only be a guy, right?) who wanted, “martini whores Mexican bull assfuck” – what the fuck buddy? Although if you find what you’re looking for, drop me a line, okay? Wink.

My favorite of all was “dick rash spunk overload” which sounds like an underground thrash band only more alarming. I hope you got that sorted out man, before things got ugly. Uglier. And if spunk overload gave your dick a rash, I’d be living in the ER by now.

I will end by telling the lady (please let it be a lady) who searched for “lounge honey”, I am available.

A real update soon. I have been busy as a fucking fuck.

Pelvic Thrusting Into The Holidays

Posted on 12:04 AM by Tony Spunk

Well hey lazy people's of Blogland. Ok well I realize I'm the lazy fucker not you guys but honestly, I haven't been so much lazy as busy and incapacitated. Lots of work and lots of play. I thought about you all the time though. You guys are my everything. You guys and Martini on the rocks.

Also, I just moved my whole thing over here to Blogger from Wordpress. I wasn't feeling WP what with the lack of artistic freedom in the looks department and all. Plus all my buds are here, you dig? So hi Blogger! Sorry you guys that I couldn't actually export the damn thing as a whole therefore, I lost all your great comments. Goddamn technology shit.

Know what I've been doing? The ladies! Yeah. Some things never change right? Admit it, you don't want them to. Plus it's almost Christmas and the ladies flock to the city of lights looking for some holiday fun and that's practically my last name. I consider it a service to humanity. Those guys at the tourist board ought to take it into consideration. Maybe put me in a brochure or something. They could stand me next to say, the Stratosphere, in a symbolic display of phallic glory, while pointing out my adequate gigolo tendencies and how I'm basically a man-whore, except I don't charge a cent. I do it for the pure, undiluted love of it, ladies. You have a vagina? Tony can fill it. Let's leave it at that.

I've been kind of half seeing a lady named Mercedes. She's one of those chicks that tie her hair back and wear tiny little skinny reading glasses but you know that given the right encouragement, and maybe a few daiquiris, would totally undo a few more buttons on her blouse and be dancing on that table before you could get your pecker out. Plus, let's be realistic here, Mercedes is totally a stripper name, no? I've learned not to mention that however, as last time I ended up wearing a Cosmopolitan on my funky new satin shirt. It's a bastard getting cocktail stains out of your frills, man. And the stripper thing was totally a compliment too.

Plus Mercedes has a gigantic flat ass that belongs in a high-waist pencil skirt so the world can appreciate it. Either that or it should be gyrating on my manroot, either choice is fine.

She's a touch shy though. Likes to be wined and dined a few times before I can warm my hands in her love furnace. That's ok. I don't mind the chase. It's sort of exciting really. And it ensures I bathe regularly, in case the moment arrives unexpectedly. You don't want to have sweaty coconuts when you intend grazing a lady's chin with them, right?

For the record, I like to give them a light going over with a razor, then some Nivea, then I might spritz on a little bit of Giorgio Armani cologne. Really I have the best kept balls this side of the Continental Divide. Besides, if a lady has to have a balls-on-chin experience, it might as well be a pleasant smelling one. I'm pretty thoughtful like that.

I'm just putting it out there in case any of you ladies are ever in my zip code. You will never have a sweaty balls emergency with Tony Spunk! Wink.