Author: HerbertHardnut

Endangered (Humorous)

I’m a flawed man: I suck at cooking, I’m bad at math, and it would take me almost twenty minutes to run a mile. My point is I don’t have a lot of talents. I’m aware that I don’t. Don’t try to convince me I do. But I do have one gift: I know the crap out of animals.

You’d think I’d have a cool nickname like Steven Irwin did, and you’re halfway right. I do have a nickname, but it’s definitely not in the books, and it’s definitely not as cool as “The Crocodile Hunter.” However, it’s arguably much more important. They call me… “Semen Stan”

Yeah… that’s right. And no, it’s not as gross as it sounds. You see, while several animals around the world are going endangered or extinct because we humans are the worst, there are a handful of different animals that are going endangered or extinct because they just won’t get busy. My job is to do one of two things: get them in the mood to get busy with each other or collect a sample myself. As much as I wish it was mostly the former, the latter is much more common. Read more »

Position of Power

I’ve been obsessed with sex for my entire life, and I’ve never quite known why. I’ll skip my slutty high school and college days, because while fun, they were basic as hell. After a bachelor’s in neuroscience, and a master’s and a PhD in clinical psychology, I never could quite figure out what made me so hyper-sexual. I did, however, become one of the most educated high-class escorts in Washington D.C.

My primary clientele was, you guessed it: politicians. I’ve probably banged about half the house of representatives. People ask me if I let my political opinions affect my job, but I always just say: there is no partisan line when it comes to pussy.

I have a lot of stories I could tell you, but the craziest thing that happened to me actually happened this past November 3rd, or, Election Day.

Election Day is normally a pretty slow night for me because politicians end up spending time celebrating or mourning their defeat with their wives. So I decided to plop in front of CNN, open a couple bottles of pinot grigio, and silently pray that I wouldn’t have to keep listening to Republicans whine about “feeling conflicted” about what was happening in their party anymore. I could just get back to indulging in their freaky kinks without worrying about them suddenly becoming aware of their lack of moral compass. Read more »