dear fellow blogger

alot has happened since my last post
but let it be known that,
the new post button you see above
can only promise more
entertaining
tales of self-loving debauchery .

whether this be my sad cry to friends lost in the world of masturbation blogs
or a wake up call to my fellow contributors
let it be known that to me ,
Mr.T.Seed
the thought of a new post
can always put a man to sleep.

Good Night,
And good morning to the slow revival of
http://ohsweetnuttin.blogspot.com/

Tim Seed

Don't Call it a Cum Back

I will start this post with a simple apology for my absence to the blog. Maybe my laziness is to blame, perhaps my desire to share my self-sexual escapades has diminished. What ever its been I will assure you the reader that mr t.seed is back in full self love swing, and will be keeping you up to date with every self loathing seed donation to the toilet paper gods.

This particular journey down masturbation lane was more out of self spite then lust. I awoke in the living room of my friends apartment(you'd know them as linley and crabbe) slightly delirious and hungover from the night before, it had been several days since my man missle had and human contact and it didnt seem to care. Wondering what was wrong with myself and sure i could bust a juicy morning nut in the comfort of the warm foreign shower I commenced war.My love rocket had other ideas perhaps the poor guy was still asleep or maybe its lost interest in the touch of my hand. The pains of vigorous stroking shot up and down my faithfull right and left arms.and i was beggining to feel defeated by my own penis. In a last ditch effort i decided to give it all I got.and reached the heavenly bliss of self ejaculation. I cleaned the stickey mess from my hand's washed my body and mind of the trecherous self battle and went on with my day with a slight grin on my face. So boys if your were wondering why Seed was occupying the washroom for and awkward amount of time this is your answer.

Good Day

T.Seed

Hand Solo

When my friends ask why I have a dozen large mirrors in my bedroom, I don't tell them it's because I host orgy's in which only I attend. I usually make up some lie like the Antique Road Show is coming into town.

Back to Dert

With sweat dripping from my forehead and onto my already soaked hand, I wonder " Are all my roommates fast asleep?". As I reassure my sulking, shameful self that they are most likely long since visited by the sand man, I promptly greet myself with a warm, familiar "hello" from my favorite smut ridden youtube parody. Within minutes, well seconds, of finding a worthwhile whore performing demeaning acts of self deprecating stardom, I find my all too expected stiffy to be forming a classic partnership with my own right hand. While a decent percentage of my blood is rushing to my peninsula of meat, I'm wondering "Really? Already?", but the obvious lack of self discipline is rearing its ugly head as I wipe up my self loathing with a dirty old sock. Until next time, I hate myself...

My friends favorite vert skaters

Dylan Toby - Tony Hawk
Freebs - Shaun White
Cyrus - Lincoln Ueda
Robbie - Darren Naverette
Dan Lintamen - Mike Crum
Bryn - Max Shaaf
Fabian - Bob Burnquist

The lust I feel for my own salty dog is a deep void that yearns for the warmth of a thousand mediocre looking women.

Nothing more.

Who am I kidding?

I can't quit. The only thing more addicting than the simulated accomplishment I get from my daily, if not hourly, self-services, is the compelling feeling to brag about it on the vast, guiltless internet. I suppose I'll be posting here for a while longer.