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Funny Pictures Part 2


Joyrex

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The title is misleading, he says himself that putting popping candy in your bellend is harmless. However, never washing it is disastrous.

 

PS You never see this kind of thing on the evening news do you? Yet another thing the BBC fail to report on.

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Guest jasondonervan

Lol!

 

Reminds me of this song.

 

 

Jaysus, that's a blast from the past. Think I've still got the EP on tape somewhere...

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not a picture but this is too good not to post. from a Reddit thread called "what sexual thing do you and your SO do that you're sure nobody else does":

 

 


In an utterly unique and unreproducible mating ritual, my wife will perform a fan-dance of her own choreography, using oversized foam "#1" fingers as the fronds.

 

While she's dancing, I hide under a pile of blankets on the bed, and outline with a laser pointer the areas of her body I find pertinent to my plans, which I describe to her into a walkie-talkie, and which she receives in a headset unit.

 

Once she has accepted my plan, by ceasing her dance and pointing to the pile of blankets with her "#1" fingers, she begins a sophisticated shimmy over to the bed, and begins humping the pile of blankets with me underneath.

 

At this point, I may shout "it's me!" and reveal myself, or I may shout "mayday! mayday!", at which she will immediately discard the foam fingers, pull back the blankets, and begin administering sexy CPR to me. Or, I can shout "frijoles negros!", at which point we will de-escalate our precoital machinations, and order mexican food and watch a movie. Frijoles negros don't actually have to be ordered, that's just a code word. Responding with anything other than those code words will result in her immediately retreating to a corner of the room to masturbate, after which the whole sequence kicks off again.

 

Assuming I reveal myself, which is typical, my wife will lie back on the bed in a very submissive pose and start reciting from the works of discredited 20th Century poets from memory. My objective, while fucking her, is to thrust in such a way that the words she happens to be saying when her voice rises form, over time, an exquisite corpse writing, revealing secrets of the Universe from an extra-terrestrial source.

 

After the sex, which is awesome, we like to eat petits-fours shaped like the heads of the heads of the World Bank and the IMF, while listening back to a recording of our lovemaking, transcribing the words where her voice piques, noting with wonder the secrets of the Universe.

 

Also wadding up immense amounts of tissue and carelessly tossing them on the floor for our ravenous underfed pet to snack on.

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not a picture but this is too good not to post. from a Reddit thread called "what sexual thing do you and your SO do that you're sure nobody else does":

 

 

In an utterly unique and unreproducible mating ritual, my wife will perform a fan-dance of her own choreography, using oversized foam "#1" fingers as the fronds.

 

While she's dancing, I hide under a pile of blankets on the bed, and outline with a laser pointer the areas of her body I find pertinent to my plans, which I describe to her into a walkie-talkie, and which she receives in a headset unit.

 

Once she has accepted my plan, by ceasing her dance and pointing to the pile of blankets with her "#1" fingers, she begins a sophisticated shimmy over to the bed, and begins humping the pile of blankets with me underneath.

 

At this point, I may shout "it's me!" and reveal myself, or I may shout "mayday! mayday!", at which she will immediately discard the foam fingers, pull back the blankets, and begin administering sexy CPR to me. Or, I can shout "frijoles negros!", at which point we will de-escalate our precoital machinations, and order mexican food and watch a movie. Frijoles negros don't actually have to be ordered, that's just a code word. Responding with anything other than those code words will result in her immediately retreating to a corner of the room to masturbate, after which the whole sequence kicks off again.

 

Assuming I reveal myself, which is typical, my wife will lie back on the bed in a very submissive pose and start reciting from the works of discredited 20th Century poets from memory. My objective, while fucking her, is to thrust in such a way that the words she happens to be saying when her voice rises form, over time, an exquisite corpse writing, revealing secrets of the Universe from an extra-terrestrial source.

 

After the sex, which is awesome, we like to eat petits-fours shaped like the heads of the heads of the World Bank and the IMF, while listening back to a recording of our lovemaking, transcribing the words where her voice piques, noting with wonder the secrets of the Universe.

 

Also wadding up immense amounts of tissue and carelessly tossing them on the floor for our ravenous underfed pet to snack on.

Fucking hipsters
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