Rock, Paper, Anaconda- Bruce Springsteen Edition

I first saw Bruce Springsteen when I was about 7 or 8 years old. VH1 was playing some video of his and while I liked the song, I was more captivated by how animated he was while he sang.

He looked like he was in pain. That, or he had to take the biggest crap of his life and holding it in while singing was causing him to grimace so exaggeratedly.

Either way, I liked him. Over the years I’ve watched him sing about what he values and what is important to him. I love how he doesn’t sound pretentious and self-centered. I love looking at his album covers and seeing his performances from before I was even born.

I don’t the exact reason why I can’t see myself having sex with him, maybe it’s how humble he is, but because he makes those outrageous faces while singing, I want to give him a blowjob.

It’s purely selfish. I want to give him a blow job, and during the act I want him to sweat and grind his teeth together, to moan and grunt while I lick his balls. I want him to start talking gibberish with his cock down my throat. I’d get such an ego boost off of his responsiveness to my mouth.

I’ll be “The Boss” for a little while…


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