Recently, Frank Report published an intriguing post from Violet, who claims she knew Keith Alan Raniere years ago – and had a brief sexual encounter with him. Violet was wise enough to run away from him after he said that his single sexual encounter meant that he now owned her and that she could never be with another man the rest of her life. Shivani was not impressed by her post.
This is in response to Violet’s [not her real name] story Woman Who Sneaked Away From Raniere After Having Sex With Him Tells Her Story.
Hello, pay attention to meeeeeee.
“I got AWAY after only one f*ck! But I still like to bring it up for topical discussion, all these years later, like Bob Hope singing ‘Thanks for the Memories.’”
The Violet woman (or is that beet red?) who shtupped Raniere did not fall for him but only had a wham, bam, thank the (her words) “very capable lover,” with the myopic Flabturd himself.
The one and only!
Can you even begin to dig it? Ugh, a bugga boo.
Raniere, the obvious harem vomitus, who is described herein as having been an “exciting” and “satisfying” what? 10 or so minutes of friction? Yawn. Blergh.
This sounds like the rehash of a contradictory-feeling ego-trip about having sex one time with some foul jackass whose name has been in print.
He even came highly recommended by his coven of tricky, jealous saleswomen, like a rusty-bottomed used car with rolled-back low mileage. Desirability only to be matched by the offal redolence of a putrid can of sardines which some anorexic hid in her lingerie drawer to eat later, when alone at last.
Hey! “One time, at band camp, I got screwed, quite voluntarily, by a famous criminal! Woobie woobie for me! Now lemme explain how it went and how come it was so gosh darn exciting, as well as psychologically educational.”
Let’s get real.
The lady let herself get suckered as fresh meat amongst the meat Raniere was already used to banging, a bunch of unattractive, possessed hags who had already surrendered and were eager to supply their Guru of Grotesqueness with fresh, unsampled ass.
Maybe the ass would come with a trust fund or somethin’. Maybe she could clean toilets for some more sex with the Guru of Grub if found worthy to join the Groupie Troop.
Let us all list, describe and discuss all of the boring or rather strange or very hairy or God forbid! PAUNCHY and /or psychopathic losers with whom we couldn’t resist having one-night stands. Who wants to get the ball rolling!? Maybe it’s a slow news day and there is a Guinness World Record waiting to be broken. Y’all get to go first since it was my idea. Hahaha.
The lady, Violet-but-not-wanting-to-be-Beet Red, was aware that sex was like tennis to the sweaty greaseball and that he had other sexual partners pressuring her, all pimplike, to let him have at her. So what the hell was the big attraction? “Let me visit him one more time and see if I can restrain myself.” ??? For crying out loud, this is a dime novel soufflé, a whipped-up and easily splatt-able scrap of aged, sooty, turgid air.
Beet-Red says that she wanted the “white picket fence” dream all along and wasn’t interested in being with a manwhore with herpes, horns and a spiked red tail, but the pressure was too great to resist. Get out of town.
Also, so what?
Tons of people have screwed around with “mistaken identities” every once in awhile, let it go, live it down and sigh with relief as the recollections pass. Better luck next time and maybe remember to have better taste in lovers or even in wham-bams. Is this little vignette any different, or is it only different because the lady still finds her sexual try-out session worth mentioning?
What a f*cked up epiphany.