Someone treat me like I deserves to be treated
Lets face the facts I am unemployed and I don't want to get a job making only 10 dollar an hour. I am a above average looking male with beutiful cock looking for suger mama to spoil me rotten use my cock and pay my way for a little while! Why waste a beutiful cock? It now ready for you to use all the time!
Take me shopping, and a couple dollars gas money, and some going out money, and you get to play with my cock anytime you want nostrings atached! Kinky and I will always satisfy you. I lwill look good on your arm and im a great in bed, and Im willing to do chores around the house. Derek xxx-xxx-xxxx cell
Because nothing excites a woman more than going down on a man whose cock tastes like an unemployment office.
Garnish with job applications and lightly season with lawn care bags, and his genitals may become a bit more palatable if only for a few weeks; otherwise, he'll need a pair of clit-sized jumper cables and a Princess cruise ship battery to keep your arid vagina from sprouting a vibrant medley of sub-Saharan cactus plants.
The economy is bad folks, and Derek joins the growing legions of men trolling the internet for a sugarmama. Technically defined, a sugarmama works hard all day and earns a living whilst the man sits at home in a nest of Cheeto bags and Yoo-Hoo cartons with his beak open and tongue extended, incessantly chirping for scraps of your paycheck. In turn, you get all the hard cock you want, which, in this case, is probably none. Unless you need a hat holder.
Regurgitating hard-earned greenbacks to a grown infant with the motivational drive of a glacier taxes the sexual psyche of even the most fervent female nymphomaniac; after a week of listening to him recap Judge Judy highlights, her sex drive will park itself in a museum somewhere between Eli Whitney's original cotton gin and a mule-powered wheat combine.
Derek assumes a woman would want to fuck an unemployed freeloader just because "he has a beautiful cock," which is like assuming she's dumb enough to buy a piece of shit car just because it has a shiny muffler. Both are equally embarrassing, and God forbid she had to take either to a high school reunion; at least she can park the car down the street. Derek hovers like a shadow that's constantly low on cash.
"So what do you do for a living Derek?" her high school friends would inevitably ask.
"Nothing," Derek would say with a smirk, "I don't work because I don't feel like it."
It's at this point you'd affix an anti-scratch dog cone to your head and ooze backwards out of the room like a salted slug on a Phoenix sidewalk. You're officially dating a loser, the same guy who's now trying to write down another woman's phone number on the back of a $1 food stamp.
Get a new tattoo above your pussy.