Danny Tanner woke up abruptly with a massive hangover, vomited into his bedside sick-bucket and wiped his mouth with the bedsheets. "FUCKING SHIT," he exclaimed after pressing his lips to an empty plastic 1.75L bottle of Jenkins 90 Proof Vodka, "Out again already, goddamnit!", chucking the empty plastic jug to the floor. Danny Tanner staggered his way down the hall banging on his children's doors as he passed, yelling "Get your asses out of bed! We need to take a little trip to the store for daddy because none of you little bastards is old enough to buy alcohol! I expect that you'll all have your collars on by the time I'm done taking a shit! Make sure you fasten Michelle's tighter this time!" The studio audience whoops in approval. Danny slams the bathroom door shut. Shortly afterwards, distinguishable gas farts and watery diarrhea noises are heard from the surrounding rooms, accompanied by grunts, moans and further vomiting.
D.J. was aware of the consequences of not using Danny's allotted time window, so promptly put on her dog collar with the spikes pointing toward the neck, as this is the only way Danny would accept them to be worn (with fear of beating mind you.) It was always the opinion of D.J. that mild stabbing pains around the neck were preferable to a savage beating in addition to the stabbing pains later. Being the eldest forced her into the position of being "responsible" for the younger siblings and thusly would endure the majority of all beatings. Steph was aware of this fact and purposefully made D.J. chase her around the living room yelling "You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" Upon the third lap, D.J. heard a loud THUD. Michelle, perched on the back of the sofa, had fallen face first onto the floor. Although simply shocked by the fall, the small mongoloid only began crying as she noticed the warm blood on her finger after some nosepicking. Audience sniggers. Steph finally decided to stop being a little shit and submitted. D.J. put on Steph and Michelle's collars and proceeded to attach the leashes.
After gaining some composure, Danny burst out of the bathroom and headed for Joey's bedroom. Before knocking on the door, he noticed grunting coming out of the room. "Don't try to insert an un-lubed summer sausage of that size into me, Joey! It'll rip!" Jesse's toned-down voice could be heard through Joey's door. Danny yelled "Uhm, I'm going out to get some booze, you guys want any?" Footsteps shuffled and magazine pages were thumbed through for several seconds before Joey replied, "No, we're cool. Jesse's just....helping me...clean... up. See you later." Danny made his way back downstairs while listening to more shuffling and manly giggling.
"Well well," he condescendingly remarked "so you finally learned." Danny took the three leashes and lightly yanked them along towards The Van. "Get yer asses in." Danny opened the van's rear door, exposing the three lettuce crates of which he had created makeshift child out of seats with nylon rope tether. "Seatbelts please. Thank you!" The girls hadn't yet fastened their "safety belts" yet, but would need to, with Danny's erratic driving skills.
Danny Tanner peels out of the driveway, nearly hitting D.J.'s young friend Kimberly Gibbler. The audience cheers with laughter as Kimmy is caught off guard and crashes her banana-seat bicycle into the Tanner mailbox. Laugh track plays as Danny observes the incident through his rear-view mirror and remarks, "I'll deal with that shit when we get home." Danny darted down the interstate, passing cars in both the fast and slow lane, taking the second exit. Danny disregards the offramp stop sign and tears-ass into the Safeway parking lot's primo handicapped parking space. Danny hopped out of the van, opened the rear doors, took his daughters' leashes and marched them into the supermarket's seafood section. Danny lifts Michelle into a freezer "playpen" bin and instructed his two older daughters to "Keep an eye on this one, or else." Danny left the store in a rush, exiting to the right toward Jake's Liquor Store.
Steph opened a plastic container of imitation crab meat and dumped the liquid-solid mixture onto her younger sister's head. Michelle shiverered as she gripped the frost-laden freezer bin's outer edges, trying to hoist herself up a bit to see what was happening in the store.
A young boy of Steph's age had escaped his mother's kiddie harness and peeked over the opposite side of the bin, where Michelle and her sisters couldn't see him. Knowing that the young child was mentally crippled, he, like the Live Studio Audience found it humorous that tugging on the toddler's jumpsuit pajamas caused her to fall over. Michelle restored herself to the former standing position on side of the, but was tugged down a second time with greater force and began crying. The young boy ran away chuckling. Steph heard this and yelled "Hey I know you! You're Bobby Sherman! Wait up!" Steph darted off as onlookers watched the four-child spectacle happen around the freezer bin. D.J. yelled "Hey! Get back here!" and chased after the middle child, studio audience laughing. The shoppers' CNN-soaked minds quickly lost interest and didn't notice that Michelle had managed to climb out of the freezer bin. Michelle squandered her newly-gained freedom for several minutes picking up dust-bunnies from under the massive refrigerator with her cold numb hands and tasting them.
Danny soon returned from the liquor store, three shopping bags in hand. "Oh what the FUCK!" he roared as he saw the Michelle alone, sitting beside the receptacle. He heaved his daughter back into the frosty cell and went on a hunting trip for his other children. Not half a minute had elapsed before he heard the pitter-patter of two sets of feet. He spotted D.J. chasing her sister down the T.V. dinner aisle and quickly caught up, kicking D.J. square in the back as she grasped Steph's leash. Both girls fell to the floor hard as D.J. impacted with Steph. "You'll suffer the penalties when we get home, but you need to retrieve your sister RIGHT FUCKING NOW and get in the van before I beat you right here!" The two girls struggled to get the little tard out and were finally hauled off by their leashes toward the van moments later.
After crumbling and chucking the handicapped parking ticket that was under his windshield wiper, Danny drove home at a slower speed, obeying all traffic laws for the most part. He was very angry and was deciding on the punishment for his two oldest daughters. The show's scene-switching saxophone music plays as the scene fades into the Tanner residence backyard where Danny is supporting the lid of a metal box. "Your punishment, eighteen hours in the hot box! Your whore of a mother would be ashamed if she were still alive." he grinned maniacally as he shoved the girls into the homemade black spray painted hotbox in the noon sun.
Danny, being a reasonable father, went inside with Michelle on his left shoulder. He offloaded his youngest into her crib, and returned with a bottle containing an equal measure combination of Gordon's Gin and whole milk. The audience "Awwwws" as the child dozes off from the alcohol she consumed, and the scene fades into credits.
I would LOVE to make "hot lunch" all over your chest, Cliffy Boi.
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Slashdolts are the scum of the earth post. T(H)GSB was put to death by that beautiful sack of shit, chrisd. You will notice the large increase of comments in that story and all subsequent stories. I submit that this was an intentional act to kill that pathetic blackout initiative, where no slashdolt could resist flaming chrisd in the forums, thereby ending T(H)GSB. It clearly went off without a hitch, and now the only protestor left is the organizer.
the most pathetic thing I've seen on slashdot today, and that's pretty fucking pathetic in real life terms. When you've regurgitated some fucking Simpsons script, there's a pretty good clue that you should have been eaten in a soup as a newborn.
Your mother probably hates you, and would have cooked you in a placenta stew in simpler times. The antibodies alone are probably worth more than your current opinions.
As every slashdot story is published, my hatred for each and every one of you slashbot knob-gobblers grows by a factor of two. Another daily reminder: I really hate you all! Plz die spd fcks thx!
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Malda eats some crap!
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big
beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the
urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was
"straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of
shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd
forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the
bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured.
The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse
building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit,
but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff
fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was,
confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any
fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it
to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar.
What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit
nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked
on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large
chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in
the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was
filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and
they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding
scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his
piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down.
Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich
bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot
of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out,
rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of
ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it
third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all
gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling
down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day,
never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
Linux and X window managers are shit, anybody who picks Linux as a desktop if a fucking moron. An unviable solution, those schools would be totally fucking retarded to not pay up. XP Licenses for all!
Windows XP8===D ( 0 )Linux
Slashfags to suckle on my fucking asshole, for I've run out of toilet paper. I just took the shit of the century and I know you like the taste of Malda's bum-bum, so it's a win-win situation!
Attitude, you got some fucking attitude
I can't believe what you said to me
You got some attitude
Inside your feeble brain there's probably a whore
If you don't shut your mouth
you're gonna feel the floor
Attitude, the one you got, oh baby
Attitude, the one you got, oh baby
Attitude
Inside your feeble brain there's probably a whore
If you don't shut your mouth
you're gonna feel the floor
Attitude, you got some fucking attitude
I can't believe what you said to me
You got some attitude
Do you think we're robot clean
Does this face look almost mean
Is it time to be an android not a man
The pleasantries are gone
We're stripped of all we were
In the eyes of tiger
One large black condommed cock up the ass, Homos! Ribbed for his pleasure!
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A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the
john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths.
I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't
once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance
with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering
smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the
shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful
specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were
fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch
gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the
impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little
clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of
course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never
done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes
on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the
world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I
lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the
consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a
digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that
shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and
sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and
bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found
that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I
chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts.
He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it
greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the
donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it
down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with
the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still
had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly
fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to
come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone
forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in
moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were
all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid
shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole
every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater
Slashdot Mirror
I'll break out the jizz *fap fap fap*
Danny Tanner woke up abruptly with a massive hangover, vomited into his bedside sick-bucket and wiped his mouth with the bedsheets. "FUCKING SHIT," he exclaimed after pressing his lips to an empty plastic 1.75L bottle of Jenkins 90 Proof Vodka, "Out again already, goddamnit!", chucking the empty plastic jug to the floor. Danny Tanner staggered his way down the hall banging on his children's doors as he passed, yelling "Get your asses out of bed! We need to take a little trip to the store for daddy because none of you little bastards is old enough to buy alcohol! I expect that you'll all have your collars on by the time I'm done taking a shit! Make sure you fasten Michelle's tighter this time!" The studio audience whoops in approval. Danny slams the bathroom door shut. Shortly afterwards, distinguishable gas farts and watery diarrhea noises are heard from the surrounding rooms, accompanied by grunts, moans and further vomiting.
... up. See you later." Danny made his way back downstairs while listening to more shuffling and manly giggling.
D.J. was aware of the consequences of not using Danny's allotted time window, so promptly put on her dog collar with the spikes pointing toward the neck, as this is the only way Danny would accept them to be worn (with fear of beating mind you.) It was always the opinion of D.J. that mild stabbing pains around the neck were preferable to a savage beating in addition to the stabbing pains later. Being the eldest forced her into the position of being "responsible" for the younger siblings and thusly would endure the majority of all beatings. Steph was aware of this fact and purposefully made D.J. chase her around the living room yelling "You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" Upon the third lap, D.J. heard a loud THUD. Michelle, perched on the back of the sofa, had fallen face first onto the floor. Although simply shocked by the fall, the small mongoloid only began crying as she noticed the warm blood on her finger after some nosepicking. Audience sniggers. Steph finally decided to stop being a little shit and submitted. D.J. put on Steph and Michelle's collars and proceeded to attach the leashes.
After gaining some composure, Danny burst out of the bathroom and headed for Joey's bedroom. Before knocking on the door, he noticed grunting coming out of the room. "Don't try to insert an un-lubed summer sausage of that size into me, Joey! It'll rip!" Jesse's toned-down voice could be heard through Joey's door. Danny yelled "Uhm, I'm going out to get some booze, you guys want any?" Footsteps shuffled and magazine pages were thumbed through for several seconds before Joey replied, "No, we're cool. Jesse's just....helping me...clean
"Well well," he condescendingly remarked "so you finally learned." Danny took the three leashes and lightly yanked them along towards The Van. "Get yer asses in." Danny opened the van's rear door, exposing the three lettuce crates of which he had created makeshift child out of seats with nylon rope tether. "Seatbelts please. Thank you!" The girls hadn't yet fastened their "safety belts" yet, but would need to, with Danny's erratic driving skills.
Danny Tanner peels out of the driveway, nearly hitting D.J.'s young friend Kimberly Gibbler. The audience cheers with laughter as Kimmy is caught off guard and crashes her banana-seat bicycle into the Tanner mailbox. Laugh track plays as Danny observes the incident through his rear-view mirror and remarks, "I'll deal with that shit when we get home." Danny darted down the interstate, passing cars in both the fast and slow lane, taking the second exit. Danny disregards the offramp stop sign and tears-ass into the Safeway parking lot's primo handicapped parking space. Danny hopped out of the van, opened the rear doors, took his daughters' leashes and marched them into the supermarket's seafood section. Danny lifts Michelle into a freezer "playpen" bin and instructed his two older daughters to "Keep an eye on this one, or else." Danny left the store in a rush, exiting to the right toward Jake's Liquor Store.
Steph opened a plastic container of imitation crab meat and dumped the liquid-solid mixture onto her younger sister's head. Michelle shiverered as she gripped the frost-laden freezer bin's outer edges, trying to hoist herself up a bit to see what was happening in the store.
A young boy of Steph's age had escaped his mother's kiddie harness and peeked over the opposite side of the bin, where Michelle and her sisters couldn't see him. Knowing that the young child was mentally crippled, he, like the Live Studio Audience found it humorous that tugging on the toddler's jumpsuit pajamas caused her to fall over. Michelle restored herself to the former standing position on side of the, but was tugged down a second time with greater force and began crying. The young boy ran away chuckling. Steph heard this and yelled "Hey I know you! You're Bobby Sherman! Wait up!" Steph darted off as onlookers watched the four-child spectacle happen around the freezer bin. D.J. yelled "Hey! Get back here!" and chased after the middle child, studio audience laughing. The shoppers' CNN-soaked minds quickly lost interest and didn't notice that Michelle had managed to climb out of the freezer bin. Michelle squandered her newly-gained freedom for several minutes picking up dust-bunnies from under the massive refrigerator with her cold numb hands and tasting them.
Danny soon returned from the liquor store, three shopping bags in hand. "Oh what the FUCK!" he roared as he saw the Michelle alone, sitting beside the receptacle. He heaved his daughter back into the frosty cell and went on a hunting trip for his other children. Not half a minute had elapsed before he heard the pitter-patter of two sets of feet. He spotted D.J. chasing her sister down the T.V. dinner aisle and quickly caught up, kicking D.J. square in the back as she grasped Steph's leash. Both girls fell to the floor hard as D.J. impacted with Steph. "You'll suffer the penalties when we get home, but you need to retrieve your sister RIGHT FUCKING NOW and get in the van before I beat you right here!" The two girls struggled to get the little tard out and were finally hauled off by their leashes toward the van moments later.
After crumbling and chucking the handicapped parking ticket that was under his windshield wiper, Danny drove home at a slower speed, obeying all traffic laws for the most part. He was very angry and was deciding on the punishment for his two oldest daughters. The show's scene-switching saxophone music plays as the scene fades into the Tanner residence backyard where Danny is supporting the lid of a metal box. "Your punishment, eighteen hours in the hot box! Your whore of a mother would be ashamed if she were still alive." he grinned maniacally as he shoved the girls into the homemade black spray painted hotbox in the noon sun.
Danny, being a reasonable father, went inside with Michelle on his left shoulder. He offloaded his youngest into her crib, and returned with a bottle containing an equal measure combination of Gordon's Gin and whole milk. The audience "Awwwws" as the child dozes off from the alcohol she consumed, and the scene fades into credits.
so do mac fags.
throbbing homococks!
Aluminum soda cans are lined with a layer of plastic you fucking idiot.
\. ( O. .O ) ./ .|. . ./
\ . .
O \_____|____/
C l i f|_|f's
B u m | |
F u n h| |o u s e
a n d | |
C o c k| |
l a p ( | )
I would LOVE to make "hot lunch" all over your chest, Cliffy Boi.
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first homosexual priest and cardinal post
Slashdolts are the scum of the earth post. T(H)GSB was put to death by that beautiful sack of shit, chrisd. You will notice the large increase of comments in that story and all subsequent stories. I submit that this was an intentional act to kill that pathetic blackout initiative, where no slashdolt could resist flaming chrisd in the forums, thereby ending T(H)GSB. It clearly went off without a hitch, and now the only protestor left is the organizer.
"By AC posting AC to preserve his precious karma and not get rated (-1, Offtopic).
'nuff said. Scumbag. Yes, I've called you a used condom, shithead.
the most pathetic thing I've seen on slashdot today, and that's pretty fucking pathetic in real life terms. When you've regurgitated some fucking Simpsons script, there's a pretty good clue that you should have been eaten in a soup as a newborn.
look out for excessive retarded Simpson's references, oh wait, too late. You fucking ass-lappers.
hah, that's necrophilia you stupid kike.
Your mother probably hates you, and would have cooked you in a placenta stew in simpler times. The antibodies alone are probably worth more than your current opinions.
As every slashdot story is published, my hatred for each and every one of you slashbot knob-gobblers grows by a factor of two. Another daily reminder: I really hate you all! Plz die spd fcks thx!
As Tyrone's cock enters Hemos' ass......
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Malda eats some crap!
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
Linux and X window managers are shit, anybody who picks Linux as a desktop if a fucking moron. An unviable solution, those schools would be totally fucking retarded to not pay up. XP Licenses for all!
Windows XP8===D ( 0 )Linux
Is a Flaming Cockmaster. I hate you fags, thought I'd give you a daily reminder!
Slashfags to suckle on my fucking asshole, for I've run out of toilet paper. I just took the shit of the century and I know you like the taste of Malda's bum-bum, so it's a win-win situation!
Attitude, you got some fucking attitude
I can't believe what you said to me
You got some attitude
Inside your feeble brain there's probably a whore
If you don't shut your mouth
you're gonna feel the floor
Attitude, the one you got, oh baby
Attitude, the one you got, oh baby
Attitude
Inside your feeble brain there's probably a whore
If you don't shut your mouth
you're gonna feel the floor
Attitude, you got some fucking attitude
I can't believe what you said to me
You got some attitude
We are 138
In the eyes of tiger
Do you think we're robot clean
Does this face look almost mean
Is it time to be an android not a man
The pleasantries are gone
We're stripped of all we were
In the eyes of tiger
We are 138
We are 138, 8, 8, 8
8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8
One large black condommed cock up the ass, Homos! Ribbed for his pleasure!
/ / / / / / / /
00o0 0o0o0o0o 0/o o o o
00o0o0o0o0o0 0/o o o o
00o0 0o0o0o00/o o o o
00o0o0 0o0o0/o o o o
0o0o0o0o0o0/o o o o
o0o0 0o0o0/o o o o
0o0 0 0o0/o o o o
o0o0o0o0/_ _ _ _/
0o o0o/o o o o o
o0 0o0\ o o o o/
0o0o0o0\__|__/
Rob Malda's Special Upstairs Milk
/_____/_\
oo_____
oj_____j
|_(~)_|_|
| )"( |_|
|(@_@)|_|
|_____|,'
Rob Malda fucks Hemos in the ass!
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater
motherfucking armchair lawyer, eat a dick.