Don Jon

Yo, not gonna lie.

This sound...

...gets me hard as a f***ing rock.

But I don't like to go too fast

right off the bat.

I'd rather work my way into it,

nice and easy.

So I'll start off with some stills.

Then, once I'm getting into it,

I start looking for a video.

I never actually touch my cock

till I find the right clip.

Then, once I do...

...goodbye.

For the next few minutes,

all the bullshit fades away,

and the only thing in the world

is those tits...

...that ass...

...the blowj*b, the cowboy,

the doggy, the moneyshot, and that's it.

I don't gotta say anything,

I don't gotta do anything.

I just f***ing lose myself.

There's only a few things

I really care about in life.

My body...

...my pad...

...my ride...

...my family...

Amen.

...my church...

...my boys...

...my girls...

...and my porn.

I know that last one sounds weird,

but I'm just being honest.

Nothing else does it for me the same way.

Not even real p*ssy.

And, yo, I get plenty of that.

Why you think my boys call me The Don?

- Jonny-Boy!

- Don Jon, what's good, baby?

- What up?

- You good?

- I'm all right.

- Jonny, look at me.

- Everything good with you?

- What's the matter with this guy?

- Come here, you animal!

- Get the f*** off of me!

Real talk, real talk. Purple.

- That's not bad.

- It's better than "not bad."

- You ain't see her turn around.

- You calling her a seven?

- An eight. At least an eight.

- That is not an eight.

She's cute in the face, you can maybe

call the face an eight, tits are a four.

Yeah, but the butt, man, it's exceptional.

I'm telling you. It changes everything.

- Sh*t!

- What?

- Sequins. Don't look. Don't look.

- What? Who is that?

- You don't remember her?

- She's coming over here.

'Cause you're staring right at her.

- Look who the f*** it is.

- How you doing?

- Why didn't you call me back?

- Come on. You're a grown woman.

Did you think I was gonna call you back?

You're pathetic, you know that?

Every week you got a new b*tch.

Then why'd you come home with me?

F*** you!

- Eight.

- No, that might be a nine.

- You shitting me? That's a seven.

- You're out of your f***ing mind!

I gave you the eight,

your record's intact. Chill out.

You heard what she said?

Everyone knows about the streak.

- You're sick. You know that?

- I don't know what's wrong with me.

- Oh, my... damn!

- What? What? Where?

- Red.

- Holy sh*t! That's a dime.

- That is a dime.

- Nah, she's hot, but it's not a dime.

I don't even mess with blondes like that,

but that there is a dime!

- F*** yeah.

- I don't know, there might be

- some lasagna up in there.

- I don't think so.

Definitely not.

She keep her sh*t tight, you can tell.

- No. I don't know.

- See, he likes that skinny sh*t.

He likes that skinny, high-fashion,

looks-like-a-boy sh*t.

- F*** you!

- Admit it!

- He's kind of right, man, you do.

- I don't like more than a handful of titty.

No, no, no, no, no. No. A nice handful, I

love it, but more than that, it's like no!

Sh*t starts to remind me

of my mom or something.

- Jesus Christ.

- Your mom do got some big-ass titties.

- Don't talk about my mother.

- You brought up your mother.

If you don't like that,

there's something wrong with you.

I didn't say I didn't like it.

I said it's not a dime.

- That's incorrect.

- She's taller than you anyway.

- F*** you, Jonny.

- I'm playing, come on.

You gonna get that?

Let me get a vodka-cranberry.

- Jonny!

- Sammy-boy, how you doing?

- You good?

- Let me get a Grey Goose and soda.

- What makes you think you could do that?

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