SpongeBob is asexual
No this isn’t some lgbtq+ stuff
He’s a fucking sea sponge
They reproduce asexually
I used to be a real ad
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WE WONT COPY PASTE ANYTHING WE HAVE STANDARDS
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WE WONT COPY PASTE ANYTHING WE HAVE STANDARDS. (dont copy paste this) WE WONT COPY PASTE ANYTHING WE HAVE STANDARDS. (dont copy paste this)
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Annie Bot
I hate esam and want to suplex him
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Esam put Ken as a low tier. Listen you bald normie, just because he takes brain power to play efficiently unlike your Braindead main Pikachu doesn't mean he's bad. I actually hate esam and I want to suplex him.
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pgESAM
Super Smash Bros
Lenny face donger
My parents used to watch cockfighting in the bedroom
My parents used to watch cockfighting in the bedroom when they thought we were asleep.
I'd hear my mother excitedly talking about how much she enjoyed cocks as they jumped around on the bed.
What surprised me though was, when we went to Spain she mentioned how cruel she thought bullfighting was. I never confronted her about the hypocrisy though.
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.