Sad news, readers. This is the final chapter of Chucklesluts: A Sexy Story About Sex. Good news: that sentence should have read "This is the final chapter of Chucklesluts: A Sexy Story About Sex... until I feel like writing another one." That's the great thing about freedom: having it!

Read more... after the jump!

Didn't get enough of the sloppy editing and clumsy dialogue in CHUCKLESLUTS, Parts 1, 2, and 3? Then you're probably a spam bot! But seriously folks, a quick review of my web traffic statistics suggests CHUCKLESLUTS is my most popular work. Thanks for being perverts, perverts! Of course, the original purpose of me creating this series was so I could feel the joy of heartfelt artistic expression. And by "artisitic expression", I mean "checks made out to 'CASH'." And by heartfelt, I mean "a lot of". And by joy, I mean "financial windfall." So far this dream isn't really coming through, but they say that positive thinking prevents positive drinking (and by the transitive property: positive STD results). So put down that Boone's Farm and that sawed off shotgun, and pick up that checkbook and that book of stamps. I'm partial to the Danny Thomas Forever collection.

As always, I have a terrible sense of responsibility for things I have nothing to do with, so don't read more if you're a kid or at work or some stuck-up shit bag. It isn't even that graphic, but you know how people are (read: the worst).

Since it's been over a month since the last chapter of Chucklesluts: A Sexy Story About Sex, you know that this next and third chapter must be the most amazing thing anyone has ever read. Everyone knows that good things come to those who wait, patience is a virtue, etc etc. So, by the transitive property, the most excruciatingly best writing occurs on blogs with weeks and weeks separating each event. Jack Kerouac would try to convince you that he wrote all his "masterpieces" in one sitting, but are you going to believe that Demerol addict? Also: he's dead. Long-dead. So if Jack Kerouac is grifting you, I'd say that you got PROBLEMS.

This is the part of the post where I include the traditional warning that the content may be NSFW. There are no pictures - except for the disgusting dirty pictures you imagine in your mind, pervert! You're disgusting!!! So if you don't feel safe at work, then enjoy this picture of what I assume is a dog being carried up and away to Dog Heaven.  

Little-known fact: Dog Heaven is swarming with dog pussy. Look at that, I still managed to filth it up before the jump. Well, there goes my career as children's party clown and/or office job asshole. Oh well. 

Read more of Chucklesluts, Chapter 3 by clicking on READ MORE!

This is Chapter 2 of Chucklesluts, my sexually hot fictional story. Wait, should the title be underlined, italicized, or in quotes? Does erotica fall under the banner of MLA style guidelines? Quick, somebody call the respective estate of Strunk and White! I hear those guys knew a thing or two about sexy, sexy style.

Chapter 1 is here. Just as in the last post, the chapter is located after the jump. I'm sort of sensitive to you schlubs who might work in an a horrible office environment that could get pissy about you reading fake erotica. Wait did I say fake erotica, because I meant the most tantalizing chapter of written filth you have ever read. Yes, that's right, it is even sexier than the sequels to The Clan of the Cave Bear.

No pictures, just text. So the NSFW rating is up to you. If you don't want to risk it, here is a photo everyone can enjoy!

Awwwww. The bear thinks he's people! I like to imagine that this bear is Nature's CEO, and this picnic table is his mighty desk. He has called us into his office to fire us... from being alive! Oh no, run!

Enough of these Safe For Work distraction shenanigans! For the real deal, read more after ... the JUMP!

America, I have bills to pay.  This should be of no surprise to anyone because I am a) an adult and b) not a spoiled nitwit. Paying bills is going okay, but like most of you I could use a little financial security buffer. What if I were to have an emergency, such as an immediate and pressing need for as many pretzel M&Ms as could fit into a pool? It has come to my attention that the adult industry is extremely lucrative, financially, and requires little to no actual talent. I figure, why not ride this ocean wave until it stops waving and becomes just some loser motionless lake. So if you are over 18, totally feelin' ready to think about boning, and not currently reading this on a public library computer (cause that is just messed up, bro), then read more!

Um, this post may be NSFW. There's no dirty pictures or anything (sorry), but I don't want to be held responsible if your dumb job can't handle swear words, white-hot text-based erotica (or as I like to call it, "white-hot sext-based e-write-ica"), or gross misconceptions of what is sexy on my part.