I am writing to you because I am in need of legal assistance. I am currently charged with murder, burglary, terrorism, and a wide variety of charges. The story behind these accusations is somewhat longwinded, but I will attempt to describe it below:
It all started when I was a child. I was the victim of sexual abuse by a deranged, obese, elderly babysitter. This man would babysit for me when my parents went on long vacations. As soon as they left, my normally cozy home turned into a sordid den of gay rape and bestiality. The old man, who by coincidence shared the name Ike with another famous gay man from a different troll, would act normally for a few hours after my parents departed. Soon, however, he would ask me to come sit on the sofa with him and watch television. While we watched the good old sitcoms on television, he would slowly move his wrinkled old hand onto my leg. I was too small and too scared to object, and he wouldn't have cared anyway, so I ignored him and continued to watch the TV. He massage my legs, moving in higher and higher circles with his warm, delicate touch. Eventually he would come to my buttocks, where he would slide his weathered hands into my shorts and continue his massage. At this point it would become very difficult for me to watch my shows, as he would squeeze my tender young asscheeks while breathing heavily (I think the sexual excitment presented some problems for him and his pacemaker). At some point, he would flick off the TV and pull my pants off, then my shirt. His semi-bald head glistened in the afternoon sun, and his white hair was matted to his head with his sweat. He would turn me over, and continue his massage. I didn't look back at him as we would get angry if I did anything other than staring ahead and pretending that nothing was happening.
Zzzzzzzzip! His zipper, with its sound easily susceptible to onomatopoeia, flew open. A few seconds later, his shining manhood flew outwards. My young asshole would clench in nervous anticipation of his anal invasion with his nine hard, throbbing, inches of man-meat. I could hear his weazing breath as he coughed some saliva onto his penis, rubbing it to make up for its geriatric lack of virility. While he aroused himself for his rectal piracy, he slid a finger into my clenched anus. Initially, the pain seemed unbearable; however, as time went on, I gradually relaxed and even came to shove my small boyish behind back onto his intruding finger, aching for prostate stimulation. Soon it was time: he withdrew his finger, and prepped his hard manhood for its intestinal odyssey into my backdoor. My bay breath quickened, and thoughts of his cragged, veined old manhood filled my mind like a Kreskin's semen in BSD's dying bowels. I felt a warm touch against my cheeks, and soon the head of his mantruder was nestled inside of my gripping sphincter. I gasped as his throbbing virility inched into my rear passages. Slowly but surely all of his nine inches invaded my bum, and I was left impaled on him. As I mentioned, he was quite obese, so his flabby, pasty stomach with its green varicrose veins were pressed against my young back. At this point my eyes bugged out of my head as his cock buggered into my asshole. Soon the pumping began: there was some pain, and while it did multiply as time went on, the pleasure grew too, but at an exponential rate. Taking into account other factors, the overall satisfaction could be measured by the equation S(x) = GAMMA(x) - 20x, where GAMMA is the standard gamma function. As you can see, it would be only a short time (about 6 seconds) before I was in throes of esctacy. Alas; all good things must come to an end, and soon Ike was ready to shoot his seed deep into my poop chute. As his semen shot forth into the deep, moist unknown, I moaned "Oh yes!" with such a force that I could have burst through a brick wall and dispensed sugary beverages such as Kool-aid and Capri-Sun. His steaming stringy semen oozed its way in reverse through my digestive system. At this point, Ike's old heart wa
The breasts were juicy, and the buns were soft and warm, he thought.
Afterwards, the division manager of Popeyes came up to the drunk's table and asked him how the meal was. He said he was satisfied, but the meal lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. The mananger apologized profusely, and said he had something to show the drunk that would make up for it.
The manager lead the drunk to the back of the popeyes, to a room soaked from floor to ceiling in blood. In the center of it was a live horse, chained by all four legs to the structural supports of the warehouse like room. As the drunk watched, employees of the popeyes cut large sections from the horse, which was whinneying and screaming in horror, the remaining sections of its body covered with festering sores and a froth of sweat.
The popeyes employees took the chunks of horseflesh and sliced them into pieces, then they rooted around through the bags of trash strewn around the room to find discarded chicken bones. They quickly tenderized the meat with sledgehammers and fed it into a machine which formed the horsemeat around the bones, then they breaded and deepfried it.
The drunk asked the division manager why he had led him back to this place, and the manager pointed at the steed's rump, the diseased asshole puckering rythmically with terror, squirting pus with each convulsion. "We're just about to use that section, would you like a crack at it first?"
The drunk quickly unzipped his pants and wasted no time jamming his erect penis into the stallion's defenseless asshole. With each thrust, the drunk donkey punched the horse in the back of the head, making it clench its ass even tighter. The drunk came just as the horse died and was delighted. Popeyes definitely went the extra mile to make the drunk a satisfied customer..
Slashdot Mirror
Dear Dr. Goatse,
I am writing to you because I am in need of legal assistance. I am currently charged with murder, burglary, terrorism, and a wide variety of charges. The story behind these accusations is somewhat longwinded, but I will attempt to describe it below:
It all started when I was a child. I was the victim of sexual abuse by a deranged, obese, elderly babysitter. This man would babysit for me when my parents went on long vacations. As soon as they left, my normally cozy home turned into a sordid den of gay rape and bestiality. The old man, who by coincidence shared the name Ike with another famous gay man from a different troll, would act normally for a few hours after my parents departed. Soon, however, he would ask me to come sit on the sofa with him and watch television. While we watched the good old sitcoms on television, he would slowly move his wrinkled old hand onto my leg. I was too small and too scared to object, and he wouldn't have cared anyway, so I ignored him and continued to watch the TV. He massage my legs, moving in higher and higher circles with his warm, delicate touch. Eventually he would come to my buttocks, where he would slide his weathered hands into my shorts and continue his massage. At this point it would become very difficult for me to watch my shows, as he would squeeze my tender young asscheeks while breathing heavily (I think the sexual excitment presented some problems for him and his pacemaker). At some point, he would flick off the TV and pull my pants off, then my shirt. His semi-bald head glistened in the afternoon sun, and his white hair was matted to his head with his sweat. He would turn me over, and continue his massage. I didn't look back at him as we would get angry if I did anything other than staring ahead and pretending that nothing was happening.
Zzzzzzzzip! His zipper, with its sound easily susceptible to onomatopoeia, flew open. A few seconds later, his shining manhood flew outwards. My young asshole would clench in nervous anticipation of his anal invasion with his nine hard, throbbing, inches of man-meat. I could hear his weazing breath as he coughed some saliva onto his penis, rubbing it to make up for its geriatric lack of virility. While he aroused himself for his rectal piracy, he slid a finger into my clenched anus. Initially, the pain seemed unbearable; however, as time went on, I gradually relaxed and even came to shove my small boyish behind back onto his intruding finger, aching for prostate stimulation. Soon it was time: he withdrew his finger, and prepped his hard manhood for its intestinal odyssey into my backdoor. My bay breath quickened, and thoughts of his cragged, veined old manhood filled my mind like a Kreskin's semen in BSD's dying bowels. I felt a warm touch against my cheeks, and soon the head of his mantruder was nestled inside of my gripping sphincter. I gasped as his throbbing virility inched into my rear passages. Slowly but surely all of his nine inches invaded my bum, and I was left impaled on him. As I mentioned, he was quite obese, so his flabby, pasty stomach with its green varicrose veins were pressed against my young back. At this point my eyes bugged out of my head as his cock buggered into my asshole. Soon the pumping began: there was some pain, and while it did multiply as time went on, the pleasure grew too, but at an exponential rate. Taking into account other factors, the overall satisfaction could be measured by the equation S(x) = GAMMA(x) - 20x, where GAMMA is the standard gamma function. As you can see, it would be only a short time (about 6 seconds) before I was in throes of esctacy. Alas; all good things must come to an end, and soon Ike was ready to shoot his seed deep into my poop chute. As his semen shot forth into the deep, moist unknown, I moaned "Oh yes!" with such a force that I could have burst through a brick wall and dispensed sugary beverages such as Kool-aid and Capri-Sun. His steaming stringy semen oozed its way in reverse through my digestive system. At this point, Ike's old heart wa
The drunk ate some fried chicken...
The breasts were juicy, and the buns were soft and warm, he thought.
Afterwards, the division manager of Popeyes came up to the drunk's table and asked him how the meal was. He said he was satisfied, but the meal lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. The mananger apologized profusely, and said he had something to show the drunk that would make up for it.
The manager lead the drunk to the back of the popeyes, to a room soaked from floor to ceiling in blood. In the center of it was a live horse, chained by all four legs to the structural supports of the warehouse like room. As the drunk watched, employees of the popeyes cut large sections from the horse, which was whinneying and screaming in horror, the remaining sections of its body covered with festering sores and a froth of sweat.
The popeyes employees took the chunks of horseflesh and sliced them into pieces, then they rooted around through the bags of trash strewn around the room to find discarded chicken bones. They quickly tenderized the meat with sledgehammers and fed it into a machine which formed the horsemeat around the bones, then they breaded and deepfried it.
The drunk asked the division manager why he had led him back to this place, and the manager pointed at the steed's rump, the diseased asshole puckering rythmically with terror, squirting pus with each convulsion. "We're just about to use that section, would you like a crack at it first?"
The drunk quickly unzipped his pants and wasted no time jamming his erect penis into the stallion's defenseless asshole. With each thrust, the drunk donkey punched the horse in the back of the head, making it clench its ass even tighter. The drunk came just as the horse died and was delighted. Popeyes definitely went the extra mile to make the drunk a satisfied customer..
The end?
I could only dream of a (Score 0 Funny) moderation.