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Post by Fx71 on Apr 18, 2007 10:32:40 GMT -5
I was over at a girl's house for a party. She was really hot and all the guys at school had fucked her at least once, but I was only there because my older brother was there. That's right: he fucked her too. I was pretty much a loner back then.
I felt really alienated on the dance floor (nigmusic) and so I went upstairs to her room to sulk. I lay down on her bed and started crying, but then my elbow brushed something unusual. I opened my eyes and looked beside me to see a lacy black thong.
I looked around in the hall to see nobody was coming upstairs and shut her bedroom door. I was already hard and it was difficult to slide the thong up my legs onto my hairy ass. My fuzzy balls were hanging one out each side of the thong.
I was really drunk from two shots I'd had before I grew tired of the party (I can't hold my liquor) and so I thought it would be a good idea then to fap. I lay on her bed and started rubbing the tip of my dick like it was a big clit pretending I was a girl. I must have staved off orgasm ten or twenty times and it felt like I had been fapping for days.
When I was just about to reach an earth shattering orgasm from the sheer kinkiness of what I was doing in the room of a girl I barely knew when the door to the room opened. Her mother stepped in with a laundry basket and froze.
I slowly reached for my pants, as though if I moved very slowly, she wouldn't notice the skinny, pale, pre-columbine faggot in her daughter's thong stroking his harbl. She screamed louder than I've ever heard before and let me tell you, escaping wasn't easy. She was strong as hell, and grabbed my arm like I had been raping her daughter or something.
My only escape route led me through the dance floor where all my possible friends or girlfriends were dancing. I ran very fast, hoping my speed would make me difficult to identify. All the while I was fighting off the most powerful orgasm of my life. My legs were weak and I almost fell down the stairs.
As I ran, I skirted the edge of the dancers, but I slipped on - believe it or not - a guy's puke. Evidently, he'd had too much to drink, and down I went.
it was slow. Completely agonizing. I flipped about three times like Bruce Lee unveiling a new technique to awestruck students at his own private dojo. Unfortunately, I was actually a huge faggot.
I landed face down in the puke and the slight tingling of the stomach acid and the slippery, warm feeling of my dick being massaged between the floor, her black, silk thong, and my stomach proved too much.
Everyone had already turned upon hearing the loud slap of my stomach hitting the floor, and as my brother and the girl who's thong I was wearing watched, I came harder than I'd ever imagined was possible. My legs shook, my butt clenched, and everybody was completely silent.
I wanted to kill myself for about three years after that incident. Then I found /b/
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Post by Fx71 on Apr 18, 2007 11:27:04 GMT -5
HI, I'M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN'S WEARHOUSE. I'D BEEN HEARING ALOT LATELY ABOUT THE MERITS OF THIS CHUCK NORRIS FELLOW, SO I THOUGHT I'D PAY HIM A VISIT- ZIMMER STYLE. AS I APPROACHED HIS HOUSE, I HEARD A TWIG SNAP BEHIND ME AND THEN OUT OF NOWHERE CAME THE LEG OF THE ONE AND ONLY CHUCK NORRIS. LUCKILY MY REFLEXES WERE TOO FAST FOR HIM. MY MASSIVE MASCULINE MEAT-PIPE BURST FORTH FROM MY FINELY-TAILORED TROUSERS, ENSNARING HIS LEG WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND ANACONDAS. HIS ONCE POWERFUL INSTRUMENT OF DEATH THUSLY DESTROYED, HE WAS COMPLETELY POWERLESS. I DECIDED THAT THAT UGLY MUG OF HIS WAS NOT UP TO ZIMMER STANDARDS, SO I DETERMINED TO DELIVER A MAKEOVER HE WOULDN'T SOON FORGET. HE BEGAN TO CRY LIKE A KITTEN UNDER A STEAMROLLER AS MY PULSATING PELVIC PILEDRIVER DELIVERED BLOW AFTER BLOW TO HIS EVER-SOFTENING SKULL. AS I FINISHED OFF MY FLESH-SCULPTURE, I REALIZED THAT I HAD FORMED HIS HEAD INTO THE SHAPE OF DEVIL'S TOWER. THE SHOCK CAUSED ME TO LET FORTH A FLOOD OF CAUSTIC COD CREME THAT BURNED OFF THAT RIDICULOUS STUBBLE HE CALLS A BEARD. HE'S UNCONCIOUS NOW, BUT HE'LL SOON WAKE UP. HE'S GONNA LIKE THE WAY HE LOOKS. I GUARANTEE IT.
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Post by Fx71 on Apr 18, 2007 11:35:42 GMT -5
Hey all my fellow girl /b/tards, I gotta question for you.
Have you ever seriously humiliated your significant other in front of their friends, or in public?
Last night I was hanging out at my bf's place, he was playing wii with a bunch of his friends. At some point I made a comment about him handling his wii-stick better than his joystick.. and that it's probably because the wii-stick is twice the size. His friends went nuts, they were pretty relentless on and off all night.
As the last of his friends left, he hadn't even shut the door all the way before he had my hair in his hand. He pulled me from the couch down to the cleared spot on the floor that they were taking turns playing games onto my stomach. It was then that I knew how angry he was at my comments, despite him and I knowing they aren't true, he has a pretty decent cock, 6-7 inches hard, nothing at all to scoff at. While holding my head to the floor by my hair, he got himself out of his pants and kneeled over my head which was sideways so I could look back up at him, he put his cock(which was ROCK HARD) down right beside my face and said, "you fucking whore, does this look small to you?". I couldn't believe it, he's never EVER sworn at me until that point, I was genuinely terrified that he was going to kill me.
He sprung up and moved his body down and still holding my head down, he dragged my shorts down my legs. My panties he tried for all of two seconds to move down off my ass but he just grunted and ripped them off me from behind, then pushed my legs apart and got between them.
He pushed in me, it was painful at first but he just kept fucking and it didn't really take me long to get wet. He just kept fucking and fucking, calling me a fucking bitch and a whore, I have never accepted this sort of verbal abuse from anyone, EVER, but god I was just wanting more and more while he was plowing into me.
I didn't let on that I was enjoying this treatment, I didn't want it to end, I even kept quiet during the three orgasms I had one after another. This is the first time I've ever came before him, most of the time it's easier just to get me off orally or through masturbation.
After he finished, he got up, put his pants back on, and told me to get the fuck up before I leave a mess on the floor, then he went and got take out for us, and he didn't even ask what I wanted, just got me some lo mein.
Today he's back to normal, and I have to think of something even more horrendous to do to him.
Fx71 Note: I jerked off to this... twice.
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Post by Fx71 on Apr 18, 2007 11:36:27 GMT -5
Me and my three friends (All in our late 20's) have formed a team to help out our neighborhood. I wear a Jar Jar Binks costume and am the leader. Then there is the guy who wears the Grimace costume, he is the strong man. Then there is the guy who is a convicted sex offender, he wears a trenchcoat like the matrix. And lastly, their is "The Professional", he wears a cardboard Burgerking crown and a fake muscle suit. We walk around town and knock on random doors. When the person answers, I dance and do a Jar Jar quote, then make a loud screech with an air horn. While the person is reeling from the sound, the sex offender confesses that he is a sex offender (as required by his parole). Then the grimace throws some leaves and dirt into the persons house. And lastly, Muscle King plays 'me so horny' on his boombox and we dance. We have done this to hundreds of houses. Are we some kind of kings? I don't know how?
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Post by LoC_Mexican on Apr 18, 2007 15:38:12 GMT -5
Ok /b/, I'll tell you my first incest experience. It was about 2 years ago; I was 18 and my sister was 16(and a half). We had a cousin staying at our house for the summer and she was either 16 or 17. Got along great with the cousin, but not so great with the sister. She felt she should have the run of the house since I was about to move out to college and I thought she was a bitch. This caused conflict. Anyway, the parents were at work, I was chilling in my room, and the two girls were sunbathing/swimming outside. I had nothing for my sister at this point, but my cousin was a different matter. From an objective standpoint, she's good looking. She's the big athlete in the family so the body is pretty good as well. I would post pics, but I'm afraid someone would recognize her(maybe I'll post with the face blurred...). So I can't help but look out my window every now and again to check her out and maybe jack a bit. Here's where things get crazy. I'm building up jack material on my cousin, but I can't stop looking at my sister. Cousin is hot, but my sister has a RACK. Her boobs look like they wanna bust out of the bikini. So I start storing images of her as well. It feels a little sick at first, but that just makes things more exciting. I want a closer look, so I go outside to the pool and say that I'm going to bust into the booze cabinent and to come inside if they want any. They think it's a great idea and follow me in. They get wasted pretty fast, but I only have a couple drinks. It gets to the point where they're basically passed out on the floor, wearing skimpy bikinis, and I'm sitting there with a raging hard on. So I make the decision. I run to the basement to grab a camcorder and set it up in the den where we are. Just then, my grandpa busts through the door, tears off my pants, and fucks me in the ass. He's wearing a cowboy hat. Once he unloads, he runs back out of the house and yells, "I have the weirding way!" LMAO ;D
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Post by foooooog on Apr 18, 2007 16:10:46 GMT -5
Soft, Fx. Soft.
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Post by Fx71 on Apr 18, 2007 18:45:49 GMT -5
I think the most disturbing event of my life happened just yesterday.
I've been chatting with this girl over msn for a while now, and we met a couple weeks ago. (she's ok-looking, sort of like Beth Ditto but not as fat and not as hot) Yesterday we had a date, and after seeing a movie went back to her place, we made out and before long I had my tongue buried in her vag and a finger in her ass.
This is where it all goes wrong.
I pulled my finger out and started licking her anus while gently pinching her clit, I then leaned back a bit while trying to find a comfier position, and was just going to slide a finger back into her ass when I notice something odd.
There's something on my finger. Moving.
At this point I have no fucking idea what's going on, with a closer look I see there's about 6 or 7 small white stringy things (each about 0.5" long) on my finger and more around her ass.
They're all writhing and wriggling.
Horror.
I'm now holding my finger between us, pointing at it with my other hand, I can't speak; she's panting, out-of-breath, and looking at me as if to say "Why did you stop?". When she realises what's wrong she says "Oh..., they're just threadworms, most people have them, they're harmless."
I ran.
4 hours later, I got back back home, I washed my hands with bleach and dettol, gargled a whole bottle of mouthwash, swallowed maybe 1/2 a tube of toothpaste.
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valkoz
Junior Member
Posts: 94
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Post by valkoz on Apr 19, 2007 17:41:03 GMT -5
lmao at the grandpa one
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Post by G(O)D)oF(UrMoM on Apr 23, 2007 6:50:49 GMT -5
FACT: MEN are SUPERIOR to WOMEN in EVERY WAY IMAGINABLE.
Think of the most amazing inventor, musician, scientist etc.
Is it a woman?
When was the last time a man needed a woman to open a jar for him? When was the last time you needed a female to fix your car? When was the last time you hired a woman to paint your roof?
You females cry raep, yet you dress up like whores and parade your fat asses to everyone like you're above them. Women are intolerable.
You know what women WERE ACTUALLY PUT ON THIS EARTH FOR?
Life support system for a vagina.
Now quit reading this and get back in the kitchen even though we all secretly hate your shitty meals.
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Post by PieMonger on Apr 24, 2007 18:36:34 GMT -5
That wasn't copypasta Holy.
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Post by LoC_Mexican on Apr 25, 2007 6:48:43 GMT -5
That wasn't copypasta Holy. bitch deleted
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Post by G(O)D)oF(UrMoM on Apr 27, 2007 6:42:30 GMT -5
On Sunday, October 22nd, 2006, there will be seven "dirty" explosive devices detonated in seven different U.S. cities; Miami, New York City, Atlanta, Seattle, Houston, Oakland and Cleveland. The death toll will approach 100,000 from the initial blasts and countless other fatalities will later occur as result from radioactive fallout. The bombs themselves will be delivered via trucks. These trucks will pull up to stadiums hosting NFL games in each respective city. All stadiums to be targeted are open air arenas, excluding Atlanta's Georgia Dome, the only enclosed stadium to be hit. Due to the open air, the radiological fallout will destroy those not killed in the initial explosion. The explosions will be near simultaneous, with the cities specifically chosen in different time zones to allow for multiple attacks at the same time. The 22nd of October will mark the final day of Ramadan as it would fall in Mecca. Al-Qaida will automatically be blamed for the attacks. Later, through Al-Jazeera, Osama bin Laden will issue a video message claiming responsibility for what he dubs "America's Hiroshima". In the aftermath civil wars will erupt across the world, both in the Middle East and within the United States. Global economies will screech to a halt. General chaos will rule.
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Post by G(O)D)oF(UrMoM on Apr 27, 2007 6:43:27 GMT -5
Hey guys I went outside today. It was definitely the best game I have ever played, the graphics were awesome and when I looked at the trees the leaves weren't flat. There was no lag. Suddenly I realized this was an MMO. I saw people walking around and driving vehicles. Nobody had weapons because the city levels don't allow weapons. Though some weapons were hidden around like a rock, stick or gun. This game was awesome, I might play tomorrow.
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Post by G(O)D)oF(UrMoM on Apr 27, 2007 14:33:01 GMT -5
This one is my favorite
All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:
0.Occupied
1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
2.Poo on seat.
3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder in one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
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Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth.... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
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Alas, it is evidently difficulty to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced to the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has manged to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
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Post by G(O)D)oF(UrMoM on Apr 29, 2007 1:06:03 GMT -5
·ɹỊ-lə ɟo əɔuỊɹd əɥʇ sɐ əuoɹɥʇ ʎɯ uo ʇỊs o əɹəɥʇ ʎllɐuỊɟ sɐʍ I ɯopნuỊʞ ʎɯ ʇɐ pəʞoo⅂ ɹəʇɐl ɐʎ lləɯs səɯloɥ oʎ ʎqqɐɔ əɥʇ oʇ pəlləʎ I pu 8 ɹo ⎳ ʇnoqɐ əsnoɥ əɥʇ oʇ dn pəllnd I
„¡ɹỊ-lə oʇ əɯoɥ o⅄ ·ʇỊ ʇəნɹoɟ ´ɥɐN„ ´ʇɥნnoɥʇ I ʇn əɹɐɹ sɐʍ qɐɔ sỊɥʇ ʇɐɥʇ ʎɐs plnoɔ I ნuỊɥʇʎuɐ ɟI ɹoɹɹỊɯ əɥʇ uỊ əɔỊp pɐɥ ʇỊ puɐ ɥsəɹɟ pỊɐs əʇɐld əsuəɔỊl əɥ ɹɐəu əɯɐɔ ʇỊ uəɥʍ puɐ qɐɔ ɐ ɹoɟ pəlʇsỊɥʍ I
„·ɹỊ-lə uỊ əlɔun puɐ əỊʇunɐ ɹnoʎ ɥʇỊʍ ‚uỊʌoɯ əɹ‚no⅄„ ´pỊɐs pu pəɹɐɔs ʇoნ ɯoɯ ʎɯ puɐ ʇɥნỊɟ əlʇʇỊl əuo uỊ ʇoნ I pooɥɹoqɥნỊəu ʎɯ uỊ əlqnoɹʇ ‚uỊʞɐɯ pəʇɹɐʇS pooნ ou oʇ dn əɹəʍ ʎəɥʇ sʎnნ ɟo əldnoɔ ɐ uəɥʍ looɥɔs əɥʇ əpỊsʇno llɐq-q əɯos ‚uỊʇooɥs llɐ pu looɔ llɐ ´‚uỊxɐləɹ ´‚uỊxɐɯ ´ʇno ‚uỊllỊɥϽ sʎɐp ʎɯ ɟo ʇsoɯ ʇuəds I əɹəɥʍ sỊ punoɹნʎɐld əɥʇ uO pəsỊɐɹ puɐ uɹoq ɐỊɥdləpɐlỊɥ ʇsəʍ uI
ɹỊ-lə pəllɐɔ uʍoʇ ɐ ɟo əɔuỊɹd əɥʇ əɯɐɔəq I ʍoɥ noʎ lləʇ ll‚I əɹəɥʇ ʇɥნỊɹ ʇỊs ʇsn əʇnuỊɯ ɐ əʞɐʇ oʇ əʞỊl p‚I pu NʍO⫏ Ǝ⫏ISdႶ pəuɹnʇ ´pəddỊlɟ ʇoნ əɟỊ⅂ ʎɯ ʍoɥ ʇnoqɐ llɐ ʎɹoʇs ɐ sỊ sỊɥʇ ʍoN
lol
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