Dick Chibbles fucked for the first time in her basement. Her dad owned the video arcade at the mall and the place was packed with machines. She was the only game he wanted that night.
He was relentless. One summer he and his buddy ran through three different girls almost every goddamn day. No breaks.
Three things that still make his blood pump: screwing four women at once, laying pipe on train tracks while trying to finish before the locomotive hit, and banging a chick two hundred feet off a cliff with nothing but rope between them and death. Speed was his other mistress. He hit two hundred on a motorcycle, a hundred on his beat-up boat, and ran class-four rapids until his heart damn near exploded. Losing the chance to really live scares him more than any of it.
After he moved to California and ended the relationship, he drove around with nowhere to go and wound up at the Salton Sea. Sat on the hood of his car staring at the water and decided to chase the next dream. He read up, hit some events, shook some hands. His first scene went to shit. He stuck it out and seventeen years later he’s still standing.
His favorite books: 1984—calls it a blueprint of the world we’re already in; the Bible—says it’s the most hardcore novel ever written; and The Cat in the Hat. Jaws is his favorite movie. He prefers blood and rubber effects over the fake CGI crap they pump out now. Off set you’ll find him hiking, staring off his ranch, soaking up the quiet. Never been arrested—knock on wood—and he’s never been caught doing something dirty.
Dick Chibbles fucked for the first time in her basement. Her dad owned the video arcade at the mall and the place was packed with machines. She was the only game he wanted that night.
He was relentless. One summer he and his buddy ran through three different girls almost every goddamn day. No breaks.
Three things that still make his blood pump: screwing four women at once, laying pipe on train tracks while trying to finish before the locomotive hit, and banging a chick two hundred feet off a cliff with nothing but rope between them and death. Speed was his other mistress. He hit two hundred on a motorcycle, a hundred on his beat-up boat, and ran class-four rapids until his heart damn near exploded. Losing the chance to really live scares him more than any of it.
After he moved to California and ended the relationship, he drove around with nowhere to go and wound up at the Salton Sea. Sat on the hood of his car staring at the water and decided to chase the next dream. He read up, hit some events, shook some hands. His first scene went to shit. He stuck it out and seventeen years later he’s still standing.
His favorite books: 1984—calls it a blueprint of the world we’re already in; the Bible—says it’s the most hardcore novel ever written; and The Cat in the Hat. Jaws is his favorite movie. He prefers blood and rubber effects over the fake CGI crap they pump out now. Off set you’ll find him hiking, staring off his ranch, soaking up the quiet. Never been arrested—knock on wood—and he’s never been caught doing something dirty.
