twitchquotes:
My e-girl e-cheated on me after an entire e-day of e-dating and now I'm e-sad. On another e-note, e-girls please send in your e-resumes, I am currently looking to e-fill an e-position.
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What the hell are both of these teams doing?
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Lockwood Streets 112
twitchquotes:
An MR-RL time. Me and Marc Rutzou. Me and fucking Marc Rutzou. That's fucking right. I skipped 1:13. I am a fucking legend. I've never SEEN a 1:13 and I never fucking will. 1:12 baby. Til the day I fucking die. YES!!! Bout time I get a fucking lucky break in this fucking game. MotherFUCKERS! And I CLUTCHED the goddamn grenade launcher. That's FUCKING right. Yeah it's this one. Right here IT'S THIS ONE! My insane pace. Right here! THIS is the 1:12. Right here. YES!!! It's fucking it. I'mma have to jus - I'mma have to find the actual whole vid of it and I'mma have to get it. DUUUUUUUDE WHAT A RUSH! WHAT A RUUUUUUSH! Watch this. Watch when I get the grenade launcher. (sorry) Look at that. See how fast my pace is? Right in the FUCKING HEAD!!! YEEEAAAHHH! Got a FUCKING 1:12 baby. That's RIGHT! You see that CLUTCHNESS? I AM FUCKING CCC-LUTCH! Look at this fucking line I take. I'm like, YEAH baby. Let's fucking DO this. I wait I wait I wait... Right when he starts firing to try to backboost me. The double. Body armor. Two quick ones. I already know I'm gettin' there on the perfect line. LOOK AT THE FUCKING PACE! FIFTY! FOURTY-NINE! MWH FOURTY-SEVEN BABY! That's FUCKING right. That's FUCKING IT! Fucking PUMPED watching this one again. I waited the cinema too 'cause i said oh my God it might be 1:12. And it FUCKING IS!!! IT FUCKING IS baby. YEAH!!! Look at me typing you guys. You guys didn't believe me. I am typing a storm. Dude I FUCKING just got Streets 1:12! It's not fucking comin' off. YES!!! I FUCKING DID IT THAT'S RIGHT! I SKIPPED 1:13 I'M A LEGEND. I AM A FUCKING LEGEND. I'm a FUCKING legend. (YES!) I am a fucking legend.
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Dyrus thinks he's smart because of his eyes
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.