Cunt Juice: What is this stuff?
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Williamson
- Posts: 351
- Joined: Fri Oct 17, 2025 6:41 pm
- Reactions score: 26
Cunt Juice: What is this stuff?
(slow, thick, and filthy)
It makes my head spin, I be thinkin’…
Between the fingers it slides, On the wang it glides…
Cunt juice… What is this stuff?
I smell it, Kinda want to gag…
But I lean in again, Thinkin’ about lickin’…
Cunt juice… What is this stuff?
Thick and hot, Drippin’ slow down her thighs…
Slick when I push in deep, Feelin’ it coat every inch…
She’s leakin’ like a broken pipe, Soak my balls, soak my gut…
Cunt juice… What is this stuff?
Bridge (slow and nasty)
Mmm… that tangy, funky taste on my tongue…
I drink it down slow… let it drip off my chin…
Wipe it on her tits… smear it across her skin…
Then I bury my face again…
Lick it up like I’m starved…
Get it all over my mouth…
Get it down my throat…
That dirty, sticky, perfect mess…
I don’t ever want it to stop…
Rub it on my cock…
Stroke it real slow till I’m spent…
Smear it everywhere…
Then dive back in for more of that scent…
It’s the filthiest nectar…
The nastiest treat…
Keeps me hard…
Keeps me deep in that meat…
Cunt juice… What is this stuff?
Yeah, Keep that pussy pourin’…
Don’t you dare stop, I want that cunt juice
Runnin’ slow…
Down my throat…
Non-stop.
Town BikeUsr: Williamson Psw: Williamson
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shurpatanmilfman
- Posts: 52
- Joined: Fri Apr 24, 2026 5:55 pm
- Reactions score: 1
Williamson I need you to understand somethin. I read this whole thing standin up.
I had it pulled up on my phone at the laundromat and Darnell looked over my shoulder — didn't ask, just looked, that's Darnell — and he said "that man got a hook." Then he walked off. Left me standin there with my delicates in the machine holdin a PHONE.
And he right. THAT'S THE PROBLEM. You got a hook. "Cunt juice... what is this stuff?" That's a QUESTION. Questions is what make a hook. The whole American songbook is questions. What's Going On. Who Let The Dogs Out. Where Is The Love. And now this. You in a lineage whether you like it or not.
But real talk, one artist to another — you bury the lede. "She's leakin like a broken pipe" is the strongest image in the entire piece and you got it sittin at the 40% mark like it's NOTHIN. I'm from Detroit man, I have LIVED under a broken pipe. That image got weight in this city. You LEAD with that. Cold open, no music, just "she's leakin like a broken pipe," THEN the band come in. Now you got a room.
Second note and I say this with love: "soak my balls, soak my gut" — the gut is doin too much work. Balls is universal. Gut is a personal problem. You lost the crowd at gut. Take the gut out, you got a song. Leave the gut in, you got a confession.
Brought it to Marcus. He read the bridge OUT LOUD in his kitchen, put the phone down, and said "this is the kind of writing that gets a man a Grammy or a restraining order." At this stage of my career I'd take either one. He wrote COLLAB??? on the ShurpaTan Empire whiteboard and drew somethin under it that might be a microphone and might be a bird. It's always a bird with Marcus.
I did try readin a couple bars out loud at 2am with the radiator goin and it started up right in the middle of the bridge and for about four seconds it felt like a DUET and I had to sit down.
You keep writin. I mean that.
I had it pulled up on my phone at the laundromat and Darnell looked over my shoulder — didn't ask, just looked, that's Darnell — and he said "that man got a hook." Then he walked off. Left me standin there with my delicates in the machine holdin a PHONE.
And he right. THAT'S THE PROBLEM. You got a hook. "Cunt juice... what is this stuff?" That's a QUESTION. Questions is what make a hook. The whole American songbook is questions. What's Going On. Who Let The Dogs Out. Where Is The Love. And now this. You in a lineage whether you like it or not.
But real talk, one artist to another — you bury the lede. "She's leakin like a broken pipe" is the strongest image in the entire piece and you got it sittin at the 40% mark like it's NOTHIN. I'm from Detroit man, I have LIVED under a broken pipe. That image got weight in this city. You LEAD with that. Cold open, no music, just "she's leakin like a broken pipe," THEN the band come in. Now you got a room.
Second note and I say this with love: "soak my balls, soak my gut" — the gut is doin too much work. Balls is universal. Gut is a personal problem. You lost the crowd at gut. Take the gut out, you got a song. Leave the gut in, you got a confession.
Brought it to Marcus. He read the bridge OUT LOUD in his kitchen, put the phone down, and said "this is the kind of writing that gets a man a Grammy or a restraining order." At this stage of my career I'd take either one. He wrote COLLAB??? on the ShurpaTan Empire whiteboard and drew somethin under it that might be a microphone and might be a bird. It's always a bird with Marcus.
I did try readin a couple bars out loud at 2am with the radiator goin and it started up right in the middle of the bridge and for about four seconds it felt like a DUET and I had to sit down.
You keep writin. I mean that.