Pardon me Madam, but I was curious as to what you look like under those tasteful fabrics you are wearing. Perhaps you would do me the honor of removing them and photographing your perfect skin so I can gaze upon your beauty?
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
I sexually identify as an Attack Helicopter
I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I'm *** retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me "Apache" and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can't accept me you're a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
Classic
I sexually Identify as
Please stop the ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ in your chat
twitchquotes:
Hello KRIPP aka GRIPPARRIAN. Please stop the ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ in your chat. I am from dubai and "ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ " means "your aunt has a goat ***" in arabic. I am watching with family after my aunt's funeral and we all find this extremely offensive. Will subscribe so you can fist me like a bro when it stops. Please no dan marino gran torino
twitch chat
Kripp
I want to impregnate Belle Delphine so bad
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.
when the impostor is sus
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⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡀⢂⠡⠈⡔⣕⢮⣳⢯⣿⣻⣟⣯⣯⢷⣫⣆⡂⠀⠀⢐⠑⡌
⢀⠠⠐⠈⠀⢀⢂⠢⡂⠕⡁⣝⢮⣳⢽⡽⣾⣻⣿⣯⡯⣟⣞⢾⢜⢆⠀⡀⠀⠪
⣬⠂⠀⠀⢀⢂⢪⠨⢂⠥⣺⡪⣗⢗⣽⢽⡯⣿⣽⣷⢿⡽⡾⡽⣝⢎⠀⠀⠀⢡
⣿⠀⠀⠀⢂⠢⢂⢥⢱⡹⣪⢞⡵⣻⡪⡯⡯⣟⡾⣿⣻⡽⣯⡻⣪⠧⠑⠀⠁⢐
⣿⠀⠀⠀⠢⢑⠠⠑⠕⡝⡎⡗⡝⡎⣞⢽⡹⣕⢯⢻⠹⡹⢚⠝⡷⡽⡨⠀⠀⢔
⣿⡯⠀⢈⠈⢄⠂⠂⠐⠀⠌⠠⢑⠱⡱⡱⡑⢔⠁⠀⡀⠐⠐⠐⡡⡹⣪⠀⠀⢘
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⣿⢾⠀⢌⠌⠀⡁⠢⠂⠐⡀⠀⢀⢳⢽⣽⡺⣨⢄⣑⢉⢃⢭⡲⣕⡭⣹⠠⢐⢗
⣿⡗⠀⠢⠡⡱⡸⣔⢵⢱⢸⠈⠀⡪⣳⣳⢹⢜⡵⣱⢱⡱⣳⡹⣵⣻⢔⢅⢬⡷
⣷⡇⡂⠡⡑⢕⢕⠕⡑⠡⢂⢊⢐⢕⡝⡮⡧⡳⣝⢴⡐⣁⠃⡫⡒⣕⢏⡮⣷⡟
⣷⣻⣅⠑⢌⠢⠁⢐⠠⠑⡐⠐⠌⡪⠮⡫⠪⡪⡪⣺⢸⠰⠡⠠⠐⢱⠨⡪⡪⡰
⣯⢷⣟⣇⡂⡂⡌⡀⠀⠁⡂⠅⠂⠀⡑⡄⢇⠇⢝⡨⡠⡁⢐⠠⢀⢪⡐⡜⡪⡊
⣿⢽⡾⢹⡄⠕⡅⢇⠂⠑⣴⡬⣬⣬⣆⢮⣦⣷⣵⣷⡗⢃⢮⠱⡸⢰⢱⢸⢨⢌
⣯⢯⣟⠸⣳⡅⠜⠔⡌⡐⠈⠻⠟⣿⢿⣿⣿⠿⡻⣃⠢⣱⡳⡱⡩⢢⠣⡃⠢⠁
⡯⣟⣞⡇⡿⣽⡪⡘⡰⠨⢐⢀⠢⢢⢄⢤⣰⠼⡾⢕⢕⡵⣝⠎⢌⢪⠪⡘⡌⠀
⡯⣳⠯⠚⢊⠡⡂⢂⠨⠊⠔⡑⠬⡸⣘⢬⢪⣪⡺⡼⣕⢯⢞⢕⢝⠎⢻⢼⣀⠀
⠁⡂⠔⡁⡢⠣⢀⠢⠀⠅⠱⡐⡱⡘⡔⡕⡕⣲⡹⣎⡮⡏⡑⢜⢼⡱⢩⣗⣯⣟
⢀⢂⢑⠀⡂⡃⠅⠊⢄⢑⠠⠑⢕⢕⢝⢮⢺⢕⢟⢮⢊⢢⢱⢄⠃⣇⣞⢞⣞⢾
⢀⠢⡑⡀⢂⢊⠠⠁⡂⡐⠀⠅⡈⠪⠪⠪⠣⠫⠑⡁⢔⠕⣜⣜⢦⡰⡎⡯⡾⡽