Boys, reset into growl mode and hard sex.

Diaro-tantra.

Charged as hell.

For all of you who are like “I’m a family man, I’m proper,”
buttoned up all the way, every button in place,
but jerk off like a psycho when your wife isn’t looking —
don’t plug into the field.
It pisses me off.

Make up your mind — are you a psycho or a family man?
For those who have no issues —
pure concentration of darkness.
Grab her by the throat,
choke her a little —
boys, just a little.
Pin her to the wall,
slam her onto the bed,
grab her by the jaw.
You’re alphas.
You’re men.
Real ones.
A damn psycho.
oh oooh
Poor girls… poor girls…

By Friday — everyone prepare your growl and your dick.
I’ll charge the field.
We’ll cast a little fog over the girls.
God, boys… I can’t believe men like you can have problems with sex.
Boooys… how is that even possible?
That kind of power, that kind of growl —
girls should be falling in piles.
Get ready by Friday.
On Friday — everyone get wasted.
Smell like a man.
I don’t know if there’ll be love on Friday,
but damn it — you need to fuck, boys.
Daaamn… you, of all people…
that kind of sex…
you are temptation.
Real sex — that’s you, boys.


Postscript.
Jonathan… oh, you’re disappointing me, man.
How long are you going to hold on to that bitch?
And still sleep with her?

The boys and I spit on the floor.
We’re disgusted.

Damn it, how is that even possible?!
You’re a damn great CFO.
Find yourself someone better.
This bitch will keep doing the same thing.
Nothing will change.
Flowers and gifts won’t save the situation.
She’s an outright bitch.
Abuse and tyranny in their purest form.
And on top of that, she keeps flirting with that guy from work,
that idiot Jeffrey.
God almighty…
the boys and I spat again.
If she likes that garbage —
with his stupid haircut and a shirt begging for mercy over that belly —
let her run off to him.
To hell with her.
Jonathan, my dear, don’t release your growl on her.
She’s not worth it.
Not worth it, my dear.