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More Copypastas
Gordon Ramsey, chef bloody extraordinaire
twitchquotes:Hello "Kripparrian", this is *** Gordon Ramsey, chef bloody extraordinaire. I hear you are starting a cooking show "Papparrian & Lil' Kripp's kitchen" and I would like to send you my special pasta recipe to get you started you lil fucker. cheers mate. Please no copy tagliolini, serious business
Hello "Kripparrian", this is *** Gordon Ramsey, chef bloody extraordinaire. I hear you are starting a cooking show "Papparrian & Lil' Kripp's kitchen" and I would like to send you my special pasta recipe to get you started you lil fucker. cheers mate. Please no copy tagliolini, serious business
Is there an anime character stronger than Imaqtpie?
twitchquotes:@Imaqtpie, Is there an anime character stronger than Imaqtpie? And I’m referring to TWITCH TV Imaqtpie with the Eternal and many PJSALT (with the REDDIT MEME ability) equipped with his 4-20 Heimerdonger and control over Jhin and Lucian, a completely monochrome screen, with Faker's DNA implanted in his chest so he can masterfully type /ff, demoted to D3 as well as being extremely skilled in League of legend
@Imaqtpie, Is there an anime character stronger than Imaqtpie? And I’m referring to TWITCH TV Imaqtpie with the Eternal and many PJSALT (with the REDDIT MEME ability) equipped with his 4-20 Heimerdonger and control over Jhin and Lucian, a completely monochrome screen, with Faker's DNA implanted in his chest so he can masterfully type /ff, demoted to D3 as well as being extremely skilled in League of legend
twitchquotes:if you are a single girl and also a gamer please send me a direct message so that I can get to know you no, this is not a joke or a "copypasta" I'm genuinely looking to find someone who shares my passions
if you are a single girl and also a gamer please send me a direct message so that I can get to know you :) no, this is not a joke or a "copypasta" I'm genuinely looking to find someone who shares my passions
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 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.