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?
What happened to this ad? :(
More Copypastas
Iβm struggling to accept religious people as human (/r/atheism parody)
This has been growing in me for a while, but the more I see whatβs going on in africa and the middle east, and all the bullshit around the world in the name of religion, Iβve gotten to a point where Iβm looking at all religious people as not even human. I donβt know if I quite see them as livestock or wild animals or whatever, but itβs pretty close to it. I still donβt understand why people say to respect other peopleβs religious beliefs. I certainly donβt. I actually think religious beliefs should be mocked, ripped apart, criticized relentlessly, and actually probably be made illegal. I hope to see a future where believers are looked at as mentally ill and mentally retarded, who need to be locked up and treated, or sent to jail. Iβm just so disgusted by all of them.
What is a plebian?
twitchquotes:
Plebian = Actually defined as a member of a despised social class, a commoner, a member of the plebs of ancient Rome. Also low-born, undisinguished, vulgar, and my personal favourite: vulgar-looking
twitch chat
Trick2g
plebs vs subs
Octavian Morosan
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Kripp
That's the power of cargo pants
twitchquotes:
Excuse me? Cargo pants, motherfucker. My pockets have pockets. You can't stop the storage. And when it gets too hot, just unzip and remove the lower half of the legs. Utility, motherfuckers. Want me to hold your phone for a second? how about I hold one of every phone on the market, each with their own individual pocket. Want me to hold your souvenir from your vacation to Europe? How about I put Europe in my pocket. That's the power of cargo pants, motherfuckers
twitch chat
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 wasnβt βgayβ. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.