Pride Pigs: BritPig Diaries Season 2


Hey. How Y’all been. I figure it’s about time the BritPig returned to my spunk stained keyboard to serve you up some more episodes of sleaze from my every day life (I took some time off because; a natural break from the weekly ramblings of the mind of a clinically debauched pig had manifested and work had to take precedence for a while).

What a busy boy I have been, crafting fresh filth for the Treasure Island Fuck machine in the dark bowels of the London casting department. I really feel like I have upped my game lately so look out for some seriously hot new scenes from the likes of Peto Coast, Jessy Karson and Ray Dalton.

This weekend was London Pride. Twenty Thousand faggots descended on the capital for 48 hours of partying, substance abuse and drunken breeding (I do love how a skin full of ale brings out the barebacker in even the prissiest of queens). We started our revelry on Friday night at a live gig by the Tina fucked trailer trash performance artist Christeene. Original tunes and overtly sexual choreography heavily seasoned with a generous slathering of genuine sleaze.


Saturday we all headed into Soho for a few pints. By four PM there wasn’t enough room to fart in the street and as horny as it was watching the Huspig suck off guys in the street whilst the rest of us huddled up, attempting not to spill our beer amongst a scrum of horned up sweaty blokes, the over crowding was getting a bit too much for the Puppy so we regrouped and took the party home. What started off as a perfectly respectable house party soon descended into a mass of grunting and panting, legs in the air, cocks up arses and lots of beer piss down throats. The fucking fizzled out by five AM and our little family settled down to a little casual Cam4 and mooching on scruff.

Bruce Jordan Britpig

Puppy passed out but the Huspig and I were far from sated so we wandered into Brixton to meet a couple of real pigs who sounded promising as the real McCoy. I have found that many guys these days refer to themselves as pigs but then have a list of caveats as long as Lito’s cock. How refreshing was it to actually meet up with a couple who did what it said on the tin. We exchanged plenty of body fluids and I fucking loved the fact that not an eyelash was fluttered when I was slurping up the arse juices that were oozing out of their greedy cunts from the hard pounding we were giving them. So I will give a big thank you to you guys for restoring my faith in the existence of real pigs who are not fucked-up in the head and are able to hold witty intelligent conversation.

We spent the remainder of Sunday hanging out with the housemates and generally feeling awesome about the preceding sleaze. As far as pride goes, I can say that this weekend has reinforced in me just what a proud faggot pig boy I am.

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