Jacked off in the shower while laying down in the tub -- shower water raining down from above. It was very nice and ended nicely. Later that day, I went to take a shit. Shit wouldn't come out, and I felt an odd tugging sensation between my ass cheeks. Thought I was dying and started freaking out while I tried to pinch my shit off to investigate. Turns out my jizz had found its way into my ass cheeks while laying down in the tub, mingled with all my ass hair, and solidified into a gelatinous plaster. Upon shitting, the hair was so fucked together that my cheeks couldn't separate for the shit to emerge (felt like that playdoh hair salon toy). I ended up having such a massacre of shitcum on my ass and hands that I had to get back in the shower just to clean off.
What happened to this ad? :(
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I'm shaking. I'm fucking shaking (Nolan Grayson)
I'm shaking. I'm fucking shaking. I never wanted to breed with anyone more than I want to with Nolan Grayson. That perfect, shredded body. The perfectly trimmed mustache. The planet conquering skills of a literal god. It honestly fucking hurts knowing that I'll never mate with him, have him pass his genes through me, and have me birth a set of perfect offspring. I'd do fucking ANYTHING for the chance for Nolan Grayson to get me pregnant. A N Y T H I N G. And the fact that I can't is quite honestly too much to fucking bear. Why would Robert Kirkman create something so perfect? To fucking tantalize us? Fucking laugh in our faces?! Honestly, I just fucking can't anymore. Fuck.
How traders politely decline the second date
I discovered recently if I am on a date and I’m not that interested in a second, all I need to do is start talking about my stocks. They won’t ask for another one then, I won’t have to politely decline.
WallStreetBets
Master the donger
twitchquotes:
(ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀ, ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง
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imaqtpie
If Apple opens super green tomorrow
If Apple opens super green tomorrow, I will buy a green Apple and cut a 1/4in hole in it and fuck it with my peen.
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Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."