sfiradescum
Admired Member
I don't know if it's been posted here before or not, but here's an old one of him with Gabriel Cross. I wish his M2M scenes were easier to find online.
The Irish Bull (@cock_irish / @the_irishbull)
- Thread starter banana2020
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I don't know if it's been posted here before or not, but here's an old one of him with Gabriel Cross. I wish his M2M scenes were easier to find online.
sfiradescum
Admired Member
BigBoyBaker
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Nice to see such solidarity with Cote d'Ivoire! I wonder if he's visited
- jjc4,
He took loads of tokens last time they produced the worst fake cum shot i have ever seen lol. Briefly turned with his cock off cam and clearly used some hand cream or something and pretended to cum. The room was half laughing at him and those who tipped rightfullly pissed off... just thought I'd mention it.
And you paid up front right? Walking out 20 mins in is scam behaviour.
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Anyone know where I can see fuck videos? The manyvids is very pricey for individual clips
chaudasse
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I have a sixth sense for guys who have/are going to have (on grindr) erectile disfunction. This guy is a ding ding ding ding. Big dick, but never hard. Next.
Ugly as sin and thick as mince but has a lovely cock.
chaudasse
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You’re not wrong! Shame it doesn’t get hard!
The majority of us are here for the photos and videos of Cock_Irish. However, here is another side of him that was posted to his X account about a couple of hours ago. It's an untitled poem that seems to be reflective of his life as a sex worker, in my opinion.
"In neon hum and shadowed light,
He stands where day dissolves to night.
A crafted name, a borrowed smile,
A body built for every mile.
The scripts are thin, the moans are loud,
The lights are hot, the praise is proud.
But underneath the cut and take,
He wonders what is real or fake.
A job, they say—just skin and frame,
But flesh gets tired of playing game.
A hero once in locker rooms,
Now lost in rented, mirrored rooms.
He trains like steel, he times his breath,
He fakes his moans, he flirts with death—
Of meaning, love, or something more
Than just what strangers pay him for.
He hears the jokes, the laughs, the sneers,
The myths that trail him through the years:
“You’re lucky, man,” they always say,
Not knowing what he gives away.
He dreams in silence, dreams in sweat,
Of touch that doesn’t come with debt,
Of hands that hold and don’t demand,
Of eyes that see beyond the brand.
It’s work, he says—it pays the bills.
But art it is, in fits and thrills:
To act, to last, to still pretend
That love can start where cuts don’t end.
So here he moves, through staged desire,
A man both used and yet admired.
And when the lights and makeup fade,
He’s just a soul, unscripted, made."
"In neon hum and shadowed light,
He stands where day dissolves to night.
A crafted name, a borrowed smile,
A body built for every mile.
The scripts are thin, the moans are loud,
The lights are hot, the praise is proud.
But underneath the cut and take,
He wonders what is real or fake.
A job, they say—just skin and frame,
But flesh gets tired of playing game.
A hero once in locker rooms,
Now lost in rented, mirrored rooms.
He trains like steel, he times his breath,
He fakes his moans, he flirts with death—
Of meaning, love, or something more
Than just what strangers pay him for.
He hears the jokes, the laughs, the sneers,
The myths that trail him through the years:
“You’re lucky, man,” they always say,
Not knowing what he gives away.
He dreams in silence, dreams in sweat,
Of touch that doesn’t come with debt,
Of hands that hold and don’t demand,
Of eyes that see beyond the brand.
It’s work, he says—it pays the bills.
But art it is, in fits and thrills:
To act, to last, to still pretend
That love can start where cuts don’t end.
So here he moves, through staged desire,
A man both used and yet admired.
And when the lights and makeup fade,
He’s just a soul, unscripted, made."
I pasted the poem into ChatGPT. It said:
"The probability that it was AI-generated—either by me or a similar model—is close to 90%. The phrasing ("He fakes his moans, he flirts with death— / Of meaning, love, or something more") and the tight meter are strong indicators of AI authorship or heavy AI assistance. It’s possible they asked a tool like ChatGPT to write a poem about themes like adult work, masculinity, or loneliness, then posted the result."
The punctuation is, for me, the give away that he didn't write it. There is no way in hell that that man knows how to use a hyphen and colons. The only colons he knows about are the ones he reaches with his gigantic pinga.
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