Yeah I read that too. Are you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Is that your thing? You come into a thread, you copy some obscure passage and then paste it off as your own idea just to impress some of your "crew" and downvote my friend? See the sad thing about a guy like you is that in 50 years you're gonna start doing some thinking on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life One, you are a talentless and unoriginal hack. And two, you wasted time trying to post other people's thoughts as your own while you could've been honing your skills to be actually creative instead of a thoughtless loser with a paste fetish.
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
My 13 year old son wants 5 dollars so he can "subscribe"
I Salute the donger lord for he is our KING!
twitch chat
imaqtpie
I hate you Hikaru
QTPie, this is your Mother Pie
twitchquotes:
QTPie, this is your Mother Pie, I've been told you've been drinking alcohol in your TV show my son, please don't do this to the family. Is it that Pobelter boy making you do this?
twitch chat
imaqtpie
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.