Howdy, my name is Rawhide Kobayashi. I'm a 27 year old Japanese Japamerican (western culture fan for you foreigners). I brand and wrangle cattle on my ranch, and spend my days perfecting the craft and enjoying superior American passtimes. (Barbeque, Rodeo, Fireworks) I train with my branding iron every day, this superior weapon can permanently leave my ranch embled on a cattle's hide because it is white-hot, and is vastly superior to any other method of livestock marking. I earned my branding license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day. I speak English fluently, both Texas and Oklahoma dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their cowboy code, which I follow 100% When I get my American visa, I am moving to Dallas to work in an oil field to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a cattle wrangler for the Double Cross Ranch or an oil rig operator for Exxon-Mobil! I own several cowboy hats, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I rebel against my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond. Wish me luck in America!
I used to be a real ad
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Hello Kripp, I am a 14 year old boy from Canada. I played you today in arena and I won, I was excited to beat a famous player like you! I opened your stream, and I felt bad because you said I played badly and won because of luck. Please say you're sorry or I'll never play Hearthstone again. Please no copy pasterino 10th graderino
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Kripp
I just lost my virginity and said Poggers
I just lost my virginity and said Poggers
Ok so we were flirting and he took of his pants and started to rub his bulge then he pulls his dick out, I dead ass said “ that’s pretty pog” he then broke up with me after we were done 💀
Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer
Karen, please come back I miss the kids
ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.
Karen, please come back I miss the kids - Wilbur Soot
1:03 ──-ϙ─────4:07
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It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.