I want to fuck a cheeseburger. Just having that cheesy goodness melt all around my cock would make me feel at ease with the world again. Being able to cum inside a dead cow makes me feel so alive. I have been banned from 231 McDonald’s for public masturbation. Whenever I see an ad for McDonald’s I get so fucking horny. God I want to fuck a cheeseburger.
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Your stream has provided a constant influx of salt
twitchquotes:
Mr. Kripp, I would like to personally thank you for saving my life. I lead a stressful life and have dangerously high blood sugar. Your stream has provided a constant influx of salt which has balanced my blood sugar levels, and according to the doctor I'm gonna do just fine now. Please remember that every time you get flamestriked, your saltiness cures another middle-aged man like myself of diabetes.
twitch chat
Kripp
I think about Kripp when I touch my wiener
twitchquotes:
ヽ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ﾉ Roses are red, Weed is greener, I think about Kripp, when I touch my wiener. ヽ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ﾉ
twitch chat
Kripp
When a stream sniper looks at a stream, it's seen as a bit of naughty fun
twitchquotes:
When a Stream Sniper looks at a stream, its seen as a bit of naughty fun. BUT when Kripp orders a 420YoloQuickSc0peR MLG 5000 Stream Sniper Rifle with a 10/10 BM magazine, orange juice holder, Cattarian reticle, with custom well met rounds, and an optional built in asshurt detection system, he's a casual.
twitch chat
Kripp
Kripp can you please roleplay
twitchquotes:
kripp can u please roleplay so when ur hero takes damage u pretend u take damage in real life? thank you
twitch chat
Kripp
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.