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Topics - clum clum
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331
« on: February 04, 2015, 06:55:46 PM »
 Post vintage photos. I'll start with this one. It's from the early 20th century.
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« on: February 04, 2015, 06:36:17 PM »
 Ask a Satanist anything
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« on: February 04, 2015, 06:02:03 PM »
 NO NO NO NO NO
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« on: February 04, 2015, 04:45:46 PM »
How? I try watching it but I either get bored, or too weirded out. There's something about it that makes me cringe.
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« on: February 04, 2015, 02:49:30 PM »
2083 here. Internet is a commodity for all humans rich or poor. The Chinese own the oceans of the planet or at least what's left. What was formerly known as United States of America has moved to the surface of Callisto, one of Jupiter's Galilean moons. Former North Korea got to Mars first. We found life in the center of the Sun - entirely different from what we would classically label "life", however. The last Hispanic in the universe is me. It all happened in the rise of the fourth reich of the neo-nazis in southern USA. That and also the limited amount of resources pushed the people to join the fight to annihilate and take over the rest of the continent. China took over pushing the Americans to find a new home and have managed to produce air out of cow flatulence.
Water is limited but the North Koreans managed to mass produce it on Mars, yet no one knows how because they are as secretive as always. The rest of the races have vanished except for the Norse women who are held as sex slaves. An attempt to find Alien life outside the solar system has resulted in the annihilation of many innocent aliens for their knowledge on black holes. Currently, United States of Callisto possesses the blueprints for a weapon of mass destruction that involves the unleashing of a black hole onto their enemies. When they unleash the weapon it'll mark the first Star War in history.
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« on: February 04, 2015, 01:41:40 PM »
I: Introduction
Very few text files have been written regarding the sexual tendencies and practices of necrophiliacs. While most people would prefer to believe that we do not exist we most certainly do as is obvious to anyone who visits a cemetery during our nightly rampages. Necrophiliacs prefer to go about their business alone; sharing is not a part of this alternative lifestyle as the corpse usually wears out fairly quickly. This is not to say that the occasional orgy involving four or five necrophiliacs and about a dozen or so corpses does not occur, but it is very rare. In this file I will describe common (and some uncommon) techniques which necrophiliacs use to gain satisfaction from their stiff partners. Hopefully these vivid descriptions will encourage you to go out to your local cemetery and to join our ranks!
II: Finding a partner
Finding a partner for your necrophiliac activities is definitely the hardest part. You not only have to gain access to the corpse but you also have to find one which suits your tastes. Granted, some necrophiliacs would screw roadkill if given the chance but most of us are more discriminating. Your chances depend upon where you pick up your date. If you have access to a morgue it would definitely be your best bet as the corpses there are usually the freshest and have not yet been treated for burial. They may be a bit chilly because they've been lying in the meat locker for days but that really shouldn't make a big difference to the determined necrophiliac. Cemeteries are a bit harder to deal with as finding a screwable corpse is harder to do. However, if you know how to interpret signs this shouldn't be a problem. If a grave consists of a mound of fresh dirt and is covered with flowers, chances are that the stiff hasn't been laying here for too long. Rotting flowers on the mound usually hint to the state of the corpse as well. Some people are exclusively into 'porking the bone', i.e. sex with skeletons. In this case you can dig up almost any grave and hope that the inhabitant hasn't yet disintegrated into dust. Try to scope out a fairly secluded cemetery for your passions unless you like a sense of danger to go along with the sex. Having anyone catch you in the act is NOT fun, and if you're picked up by a cop chances are that you won't be able to screw anything but Bubba behind bars for the next few decades. People are generally not understanding of the necrophiliac lifestyle, so it will probably be a long time before we can come out of the closet.
III: Preparation
Depending upon where you are at this point you'll have either a little or a lot of work to do. The person in the morgue will obviously have to do little more than to open the locker, pull the corpse out and bang away. If you're one of the cemetery people you'll have more work to do. An experienced necrophiliac is always equipped with the bare essentials: a shovel, vaseline and a box of rubbers. Why the shovel is needed should be obvious, but if the ground is hard then you might need more equipment to dig up your date. Vaseline is used to loosen the corpse up a bit. This makes it less likely for a body part to break off while you're having fun and it also prevents your mantool from becoming too irritated while screwing the dried out pussy. The BOX of condoms is used to play it safe; no necrophiliac should be without it. You never know which STDs your partner had during his/her lifetime, and believe me, it doesn't get any better after the person dies. You can put on more than one rubber for extra protection if it is warranted, but screwing a corpse without protection is just plain stupid unless you want to be the next date for a necrophiliac. If you're in a cemetery try to drag the corpse out of the grave and behind a bush or to another secluded place. Pumping away in the grave may seem more convenient, but it's a severe disadvantage to you if you need to take off in a hurry. Sometimes the corpse is too fragile to be moved; in that case make it fast. Or just break off the head, hand or lower torso and take it with you for added convenience.
Part IV: Techniques
So now you've got a stiff lying seductively in front of you, but you have no idea how to start. How you proceed from this point onward really depends upon what kind of person you are. The corpse will last longer if you treat it gently and with care, but if you prefer to go all out you'll probably receive greater satisfaction. There are many differences between screwing a live and a dead person which one needs to be aware of. Firstly, a corpse will never tell you to get off of it if you're being a bit rough and it will never complain no matter what kinky sexual practices you use it for. Screwing a corpse is also much more predictable because you can raise an arm, leg or whatever and it will still be in that position when you reach for it again. Take the arms and gently lock them in an embrace behind your back, or spread the legs to make sex a bit easier. If you want a great blowjob then lubricate your partner's mouth, lock it to your preferred width, insert and go for it. Although there's no tongue stimulation it's still worthwhile, and it's also safer than conventional sex. Corpses can also be recycled if treated properly. If you're a proficient embalmer you can keep a corpse for over five years if it has been properly embalmed. That's free sex whenever you want it! You naturally don't want to be too rough with an embalmed corpse though as they are more fragile. One final advantage of screwing corpses is that they are always in abundance. Based upon your sexual preferences you can designate a cemetery or a morgue as your territory and always find fresh partners to screw. Plus you don't have to resort to cheesy pickup lines or spend all your money in order to get a date. Necrophilia is a passion which is cheaply satisfied.
V. Conclusion
I hope that this text file will encourage you to go out and try necrophilia. Not many people do it, but that's precisely what makes it so much fun; it makes you feel special! If no living person would touch you with a 10 foot pole then try having sex with a corpse! Some of them are real beauties and it's an experience you'll never forget. There is no greater experience for a virgin than having his/her virginity taken by a corpse. Anyways, have fun and if you have any experiences you'd like to share then by all means do! Maybe necrophilia will enter the mainstream because of your efforts.
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« on: February 04, 2015, 01:25:59 PM »
Inhale.
Take in as much air as you can. This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.
A friend of mine, when he was 13 years old he heard about "pegging." This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend's a little sex maniac. He's always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it's going to look at the supermarket checkout counter, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.
So my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.
Like he's going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.
At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.
Then, this kid, his mom yells it's supper time. She says to come down, right now.
He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.
After dinner, he goes to find the carrot, and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.
This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now that he's grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents' grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them. That something too awful to name.
People in France have a phrase: "staircase wit." In French: esprit de l'escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it's too late. Say you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party....
As you start down the stairway, then-magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should've said. The perfect crippling put-down.
That’s the spirit of the stairway.
The trouble is, even the French don't have a phrase for the stupid things you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperate things you actually think or do.
Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.
Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around their kid's neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look ... better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad teen suicide.
Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in the Navy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we do here. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the public market sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is just a thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand, with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancy carved handle you'd see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guys get their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the whole length of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makes getting off so much better. More intense.
It's this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips.
After this, the little brother, one day he doesn't show up at school. That night, he calls to ask if I'll pick up his homework for the next couple weeks. Because he's in the hospital.
He's got to share a room with old people getting their guts worked on. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he's got for privacy is a curtain. His folks don't come and visit. On the phone, he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in the Navy.
On the phone, the kid says how-the day before-he was just a little stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He was lighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines, getting ready to beat off. This is after he's heard from his Navy brother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looks around for something that might do the job. A ballpoint pen's too big. A pencil's too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle, there's a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just the tip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle. He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth and thin.
Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into the piss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking out the top, he gets to work.
Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They've totally reinvented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can't keep track of the wax. He's one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn't sticking out anymore.
The thin wax rod, it's slipped inside. All the way inside. So deep inside he can't even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube.
From downstairs, his mom shouts it's supper time. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.
It's after dinner when the kid's guts start to hurt. It's wax, so he figured it would just melt inside him and he'd pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kidneys. He can't stand straight.
This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows.
The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it's collecting all the minerals in his piss. It's getting bigger and rougher, coated with crystals of calcium, it's bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.
This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the black X-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of wax glowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The way Arabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy.
On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.
They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he'll never be a lawyer.
Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. A candle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to be big trouble.
What got me in trouble, I called it Pearl Diving. This meant whacking off underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents' swimming pool. With one deep breath, I'd kick my way to the bottom and slip off my swim trucks. I'd sit down there for two, three, four minutes.
Just from jacking oft' I had huge lung capacity. If I had the house to myself, I'd do this all afternoon. After I'd finally pump out my stuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs.
After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipe each handful in a towel. That's why it was called Pearl Diving. Even with chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty, my mom.
That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she's just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed, retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father and the uncle. In the end, it's never what you worry about that gets you.
The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimming pool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting naked and sitting on it.
As the French would say, Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked? Still, one minute you're just a kid getting off, and the next minute you'll never be a lawyer.
One minute I'm settling on the pool bottom and the sky is wavy, light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world is silent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellowstriped swim trunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case a friend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped football practice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me and I'm grinding my skinny white ass around on that feeling.
One minute I've got enough air and my dick's in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister's got ballet. Nobody's supposed to be home for hours.
My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.
I do this again and again.
This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like taking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eaten out, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under until bright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straight out, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. My toes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so long in the water.
And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls. It's then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can't. I can't get my feet under me. My ass is stuck.
Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 people get stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long hair caught, or your ass, and you're going to drown. Every year, tons of people do. Most of them in Florida.
People just don't talk about it. Not even French people talk about everything. Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I'm kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.
Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I'm maybe halfway to the surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head getting loud and fast.
The bright sparks of light crossing and crisscrossing my eyes, I turn and look back ... but it doesn't make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, bluewhite and braided with veins, has come up out of the pool drain and it's holding on to my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake's thin, bluewhite skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.
That's the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, a sea serpent, something that's never seen the light of day, it's been hiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.
So ...I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins of it, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It's maybe as long as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. With another kick, I'm an inch closer to getting another breath. Still feeling the snake tug at my ass, I'm an inch closer to my escape.
Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horsepill vitamin my dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omegathree fatty acids.
It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.
It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call prolapsed. It's my guts sucked into the drain.
Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That's about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we're all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working-unraveling my insides-until it's got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit and you can see how this might turn you inside out.
What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctors call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin, runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.
That's all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holding on to what's left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuit back on.
God forbid my folks see my dick.
My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags my yellowstriped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.
You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lambskin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on.
A lambskin condom, that's just plain old intestine.
You can see what I'm up against.
You let go for a second and you're gutted.
You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you're gutted.
You don't swim and you drown.
It's a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.
What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital 13 years ago. Here's the kid they hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who'd care for them in their old age. Here's all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.
Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellowstriped swim trunks.
What even the French won't talk about.
That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say, "I need that like I need a hole in my head...," Russian people say, "I need that like I need teeth in my asshole......
Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse.
Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead.
Hell ... even if you're Russian, someday you just might want those teeth.
Otherwise, what you have to do is you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.
It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night. If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.
It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trouble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs.
All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me....
I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.
Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinner parties get all quiet and pissed off when I don't eat the pot roast they cooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs around inside my guts for longer than a couple of hours, it comes out still food. Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I'll stand up and find it still sitting there in the toilet.
After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don't digest meat so great. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I'm lucky to have my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got an MBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, got big, but I've never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I was 13.
Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then my dad just said, "That dog was fucking nuts."
Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my dad say, "We couldn't trust that dog alone for a second...."
Then my sister missed her period.
Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister's abortion, even then my folks never mentioned it again.
Ever.
That is our invisible carrot.
You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.
I still have not.
338
« on: February 04, 2015, 01:14:58 PM »
ayy lmao It started out as a joke. My friends had joked about it - even egged each other on to try it. We all laughed at the concept.
Fucking a bowl of cheerios? The mere idea sent shivers down my spine. The initial roughness in texture. The cold milk shrinking my erect penis.
"What joy could there be in that?" I thought to myself.
After a few weeks nobody brought it up anymore. We'd moved on to different jokes and catch phrases as most groups do. They weren't as funny, but they definitely weren't as weird. We did the usual things and Friday was drinking day. By 2:00 am all four of us were plastered. Jake let out a long sigh after pounding another shot of SoCo and Kevin was loudly snoring on the couch. After a twenty minutes or so it was just Steve and I alone left finishing off our remaining beers.
"Dude hold on," Steve smiled. "What's up man?" I said in my drunken stupor.
Steve sloshed his way over to his refridgerator and removed a gleaming white bowl from the fridge. I instantly knew what it was.
"What the shit fuck is that Steve?" I asked "Fuckin Cheerios man. You should fuck them!" He seemed excited. "Dude it was just a joke. Don't tell me you..." I was cut off. "Naw dude I didn't fuck no cheerios. But I will bet you $50 you won't do it." I had my excuse. "Fine fucker I'll do it." I was becoming erect already. "How will I know you did it, huh?" I froze up. My erection started to die. "Is this some elaborate ploy for you to see my fucking dick, bro?" I shouted, nearly waking our sleeping companions. "Nah dude I just don't want any fucking cheating, man. I got $50 on this shit." "Fine, I'll do it with my back to you and just stick my dick out through my fly." I was erect again.
We both went silent. I carefully walked to the corner of the room and looked down upon the soggy mash of Cheerios awaiting my erect cock.
They were Honey Nut.
Without waiting I plunged my eager tool deep into the bowl. The milk washed upon my swollen testicles as they dipped into the soft contents of the bowl. I thrusted gently and realized how the cheerios seemed to react to the shape of my member.
The bowl was deeper than I expected. I heard crys of laughter coming from Steve but I kept going. I wave of white anticipation struck me as my penis grew stiffer and my balls rumbled with an all to familiar feeling.
I came. I came into that honey nut flavored bowl of beaten cheerios. My semen mixed flawlessy into the color of the bowl. My knees went weak. My breathing hastened.
"I fucking love cheerios," I said with a smile.
Three days had past since my first cheerio-man encounter.
I had since then started experimenting with different things. I tried chocolate milk, but it the whole experience just felt... interracial. I tried adding sugar as well but the clean up became a hassle.
Finally I settled on bananas. They were the missing part of the equation. The cheerio inspired orgasms had doubled in strength, but my roommates were growing suspicious. I had never ate cheerios in the two years we'd lived together and now I was going through a box per day. And nobody had ever seen me eat a bowl. I knew I had to be careful.
I called Steve to to joke about it a few days after it had happened and he didn't remember. I lost $50 but gained an experience that can only be equated with touching God. It was a fair trade.
With Steve out of the way I felt a little more relaxed.
"But not as relaxed as I could be," I whispered quietly to myself. A grin formed on my face as I slowly exited my room and made my way down the stairs. Only my roommate Lynn was home. She was gorgeous, but I had no time for girls.
I had cheerios.
I carefully poured the bowl of cheerios into the deepest bowl I could find. I delicately sliced one whole banana and placed it meticulously around the bowl.
"This is going to be a great night," I thought.
I snuck outside to let the cheerios moisten, my penis throbbing in anticipation. My mouth moist as if the cheerios had some Pavlovian effect on me.
I snuck inside quickly and plunged my cock straight into their cool, soft innards. I thrust my head back in pleasure as the banana slices gently caressed the sides of my swollen prick. It had been only a few minutes, but showers of cum sprang from my penis mixing into the milky broth. A quiet whisper escaped my lips.
I began to cleanup and headed to the sink to was h the dish when I heard it.
"What are you doing?" My roommate Lynn stood there barely awake. "I uh just having a bowl of cheerios," I smiled. "I'm fucking hungry and you keep eating them. Now I'm craving em. Hand em over."
I was erect again.
She eagerly filled her mouth with my magic potion of cheerios, banana's, and semen infused milk.
"God this is good. No wonder you like it so much," She said as little streams of milk poured down her chin. "Heh, you're getting it all over yourself," I said. "Oh, I'll get it," She licked her chops in a way that made gave my rod a new precum finish. "This is so much better than usual - what did you add?" "Se-se-se-seenamon," I sputtered. "It doesn't taste like cinnamon, but it does taste really familiar," I always knew she was a slut.
She looked as if she winked at me, but I played it off as if my eyes were playing tricks on me. She sloppily finished off the bowl and hopped up on counter. She put the bowl in the sink and placed her hands next to her.
"I always knew you were a Cheerio fucker," This time she definately winked at me.
Life had been good since Lynn called me out about my new addiction. The truth was she loved the subtle semen taste mixed with milk as her ex used to cum in her soy milk when he was mad at her. She caught him doing it but had already developed a taste for it.
So our relationship started. I would sneak out of my room late at night and plunge my rod deep into a bowl. The thought of her devouring it the next day made harder than I thought possible and when I came it was, well, amazing. My life had taken a turn for the best and I was loving every minute of it.
About two weeks into our relationship Lynn informed all of us roommates that her Sister and her daughter would be staying with us for a couple of days because of a fire at their house. I guess money was tight and they couldn't really afford a hotel. Nobody really objected, but inside I was in turmoil. Could I really get away from my dark cereal obsession for a couple of days? I would have to try - I couldn't risk them finding out.
They showed up a that night and I could barely hold back the urge to plunge my cock into a bowl of oatmeal Lynn's sister made for her daughter. It was an idea I hadn't considered, but noted I must try.
We spent the rest of the night watching boring sitcoms on TV until everyone decided to get to sleep.
I laid on my bed for what seemed like hours. I couldn't hold back anymore. My erection had formed a circus tent on my bed and I knew what I had to do.
I snuck out of my room as I had so many times in the last few months and down the stairs. Lynn's niece was sleeping in her room, but Lynn's sister was asleep on the couch in that was less than 10 feet from the kitchen. If I was to do this I'd have to be stealthful, but the noises I made while fucking cheerios were ungodly. So I had another plan.
I'd fuck them in the bathroom.
I poured myself a bowl and snuck quietly into the bathroom near the stairs. I gave myself a few quick strokes to get me hard then I plunged right in. The cool milk creeped up my urethra and gave me a sort of numb sensation. I almost came right then, but I held back. My erect cock hit the bottom of the bowl like a sledge hammer of meat. I groaned as the soft but gritty texture of the cheerios rubbed against my sensitive penis. Pressure began building in my balls as the slapped against the outside of the bowl. I stopped and smiled for a second before resuming my unholy act.
And then it happened. I came but the sensation of fucking the cheerios so close to someone else took over and I came again - both ejaculations twice my normal size. I groaned loudly, but quickly caught myself.
I grinned to myself as I played the scene of Lynn eating these tomorrow in front of her sister and niece. She would barely be able to contain herself.
I walked to the door and went to open it, but as I approached I noticed I was hard again.
A warm feeling washed over me. One more load wouldn't hurt, right?
Yet I didn't sleep for long. I woke up early and went downstairs. I didn't watch to chance missing the show. I wanted to see Lynn get as worked up as she normally did when she swallowed her first bite of my cum and cheerios concoction.
She had gotten so worked up about a month ago that she had started fingering herself as she ate. I'm sure most guys would have gone crazy to the sight, but I was fixated on the soggy lumps of over-worked cheerios.
As I walked downstairs I heard the voices of Lynn and her sister. I hadn't really caught their names since I had been preoccupied with my secret so I figured now was a good time.
"Good morning guys!" I smiled at both of them as they sat on the couch and watched morning cartoons. "Good morning," they both didn't look up. "My names Jack. I don't think I got your names though," I put on a fake smile. "Well my names Karen and this little terror is Stephanie," She smile back at me as she pointed to her daughter, Lynn's niece. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you guys. Mind if I join you for some TV? I love this show."
I wedged in the seat next to Karen and zoned out waiting for Lynn to come downstairs. About 20 minutes later she did. She was dressed in a tiny mini skirt and a sports bra. She looked fantastic.
It was the first time since cheerios I had actually been turned on my a woman.
She mumbled a greeting and walked to the refrigerator. I became hard with anticipation and did my best to shift my position as to not alert Karen or Stephanie.
Lynn's eyes widened as she looked into the fridge. I could see her knees weaken a bit and she let out a little bit of a groan.
"Are you okay?" Karen asked her. "Uh, um, yeah. I'm just feeling a little sick." Lynn lied. "Oh, well if you need anything let me know. I can't thank you enough for letting us stay her. You too Jack."
Just then something terrible happened. Stephanie, who couldn't have been more than 5 years old piped up.
"Mommy I'm hungry!" She said.
Lynn's facial expression became devious. Mine became horrified. We both knew what was about to happen.
Lynn spoke before I could.
"Well we're out of breakfast foods really. But there is a bowl of cheerios in the fridge if you're hungry Stephanie." "I love cheerios," Stephanie sat right up and headed to the breakfast table. "They're a little soggy. Is that okay?" Lynn was clearly getting off on the idea. I hate to admit it, but I was too. Precum was oozing off my cock like the first time Lynn ate my cheerios.
Lynn handed her the bowl and a spoon and sat down next to here with a glass of OJ. Karen asked us if we could watch her while she took a shower and Lynn agreed.
"Why don't you join us Jack," Lynn smiled at me and I eagerly got up and headed for the table.
I sat down next to Lynn and noticed that she had already started playing with herself under the table. I smiled at her and she winked at me.
She took a sip of her orange juice and gently moved her hand out of her crotch and into my lap. She undid the button and tugged on my erect cock and gently started stroking it.
Meanwhile Stephanie was about to eat the cheerios. She was about to take her first bite when my conscience kicked in.
"Hey Stephanie," I said. "Hi Jack," She put the spoon down. "What if I take you out for some pancakes instead?" I smiled. "I love pancakes even more than cheerios!" She smiled. "But I mommy told me not to waste food!" Stephanie looked sad. "Well maybe Lynn will eat them," I smiled at Lynn but she wasn't having any of it. "No I'm not hungry. Jack why don't you eat them." As she spoke her grip tightened on my penis and the stroking stopped. "Yeah Jack, can you please eat them?" Stephanie's pleading eyes caught me off guard and I knew my fate. "Alright, I'll eat them. Then we'll go out for pancakes okay?" I gulped. I had never considered it but my cock was growing and Lynn could tell. She started stroking again. Her pace quickened as the cheerios got closer.
I took my first bite and nearly came as it washed down my throat. The strong honey nut flavor was complimented by the subtle saltiness of my own semen. I was worried that I might have been disgusted, but all hesitation was gone now. I was thoroughly enjoying every bite.
I could see now why Lynn loved it so much.
Each salty bite was like a wave of passion flooding over me and I could feel Lynn stroking my faster than before. The pressure was building and I knew I had limited time before I’d explode in a wave of euphoria. Normally I wouldn’t care, but Stephanie was still eagerly watching me devour my tainted cereal.
“Stephanie - why don’t you go and get dressed? I’m almost done and I know you’re hungry.” “Okay!” She hopped up from the chair and disappeared upstairs.
She was just in time to because as I heard the door slam Lynn dropped to her knees and slid my already pulsing penis into her mouth and then deep into her throat. She gagged a something I can only assume was sexy as I put the bowl to my lips and began to suck the thick milk and jizz mixture; slurping as loud as I possibly could.
I finally finished coming and Lynn sat back in her chair. “You have a really small penis, Jack” She laughed. “Hey – at least it’s circumcised!” This time I laughed. “Yeah, I can’t stand uncut guys. But seriously it’s kinda small. You’re lucky your semen is like nectar. I can’t get enough.” She licked her lips to show me she wasn’t kidding. “That’s good to hear. Thanks for that by the way. You almost compare to cheerios.”
A few months had pass since Lynn’s family left and I had kept up on my cheerios fucking adventures. Lynn still enjoyed her morning bowl and I had now upped it to four loads. But like any relationship things had become less exciting. I needed something to spice things up – to make things the way they used to be. I had let Lynn in on it, but she wasn’t very much help.
“Why don’t you just fuck me? I’m pretty hot and I can take a dick well,” It was the only thing she really said and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was too different and frankly kind of grossed me out.
But then I had an epiphany. Maybe it was time for a fantasy I had always had. My dick was already 4 inches deep into a bowl of cheerios as I came to the concept.
It was time to try corn flakes.
I went down to the local grocer and could barely contain my anticipation as I approached the cereal isle. Euphoria hit me like a sack of bricks as I walked down the glorious aisle. I had been here many times, but the concept of a new cereal made this experience new. It was like I had broken up with a girlfriend and could simply pick a new one for the price of $3.99 (or 2 for $5 with a club card).
My erection was obvious as I side stepped an older lady to get to the corn flakes. I’m sure she saw it, but I didn’t care. A white box with a giant rooster on beckoned me. It was almost as if it was meant to be. I started to leave the aisle but something didn’t feel right. I immediately figured out what it was. We were out of cheerios at home.
I picked up a few boxes of cheerios with a grin and headed to the check out.
When I got home I was greeted by six strangers - all of the trashed and all of them obnoxious. I had counted on a nice quiet evening with a bowl of corn flakes and maybe a bit of wine, but I would have to wait. My other roommate - Paul - was throwing a party. I couldn’t really complain because he was extremely quiet and never really did anything to step on anyone’s toes.
It didn’t matter. I’d just fulfill my mission in my room. Maybe Lynn would watch.
I walked to the kitchen and grabbed two bowls and a gallon of milk and hobbled up to my room. I knocked on Lynn’s door but she didn’t answer.
It looked as if tonight was going to be just me and my cereal.
I stared at the bowl longingly as I poured the cornflakes out of their box. My cock started pulsating as the orange tinged flakes toppled out into the bowl. Milk soon joined them, and my throbbing penis drew closer, almost with a mind of its own.
A few strokes to get hard, and I was in. The texture, the shape, the colour, the slightly roughened, non-circular edges caressed my meat as I plunged my dick further in. I had been taking penis enlargement pills on behalf of Lynn, who desperately wanted me all the way down her throat. My dick wasn't fitting the full way in, so I figured they must be working, and how!
Suddenly the door burst open. I wheeled around to see Lynn standing there, her eyes hungrily fixated on the bowl, wedged onto my dick.
"Is it my turn yet?" she inquired.
She flicked her brown hair and winked at me, and with a final thrust my load burst all through the cornflakes.
"Yes, just in time too."
She stalked over toward me, and grabbed the bowl off my crotch. Milk and stray flakes fell from my groin as she began devouring the fresh made bowl. Corn flakes were my new god, the shape and form created an ecstasy from which I could not hold back. Lynn looked up from her bowl, and questioned me for what seemed like the thousandth time;
"Please, Jack, can you fuck me while I eat this?"
My mind started whirring, I had formed a plan, a devious plan. I would give Lynn what she wanted, while escaping from my own dilemma of not wanting to fuck her. I would pour cornflakes and milk inside her. It would be orgasmic.
She seemed to read my thoughts, and nodded. I grabbed the packet of corn flakes and she fell onto the bed and spread her beautiful, long brown legs. I opened her wide, and started jamming in fistfuls of corn flakes with my hands. I added milk, and she yelped softly. I was throbbing with anticipation already.
I directed my pulsating cock into her moist pussy, her juices flowing and mixing with the milk and flakes. I jammed it inside her, forcing the cereal further and further inside her, fucking her with all the intensity I could manage despite the utter ecstasy I was in.
Harder and harder I pushed, her face staring up at me, milk mixed with my semen dribbling down her chin, wetting her tiny tank top. It was becoming too much. I thrust further and further inside her, the mix of cornflakes and pussy juices creating an amalgam of awesome that I just could not resist mentally.
"FUCK!" I screamed, as I shot what I would call one of the biggest loads I have ever felt through her system. Sh vibrated and clenched the bowl, dropping it to the floor, were it smashed, sending the contents scattering across the room.
I had made Lynn orgasm.
She immediately jumped up after she had recovered from the pleasure of the climax coursing through her body, and leapt off the bed. She then began licking the milk and flakes off the carpet, making distinct "Unghh" noises while she was doing it. I saw her thick, firm ass cheeks from behind, her pussy dripping with milk and juice, with the occasional flake falling out.
"I came inside you, Lynn." I said solemnly.
"I know, I'm on the pill, its okay." she said quickly, then resumed licking the flakes from the floor, her ass moving up and down slowly as she lapped up my body's fruits.
After that night, things seemed different. I couldn't find the same pleasure as I had fucking the cornflakes inside Lynn's pussy. I tried everything, I filled up a fleshlight with corn flakes, cheerios, bananas and milk but I just couldn't manage it, and Lynn didn't seem to be dropping any hints that she wanted more, and besides, she was going away for a month to see Stephanie and her mother's new home, and stay there for a while to "break it in".
After many unsuccessful attempts to reach the climax I had achieved before, I decided it was time for a more radical option, something I had considered yet never tried. I wasn't going to fuck a bowl, or a fleshlight, I was going to fuck the opening of a milk bottle, filled with cheerios, bananas, cornflakes and the rim lubed up to maximum.
I went to the store and purchased the ingredients. The checkout worker had come to learn my name and special, and as soon as I started walking towards him he already had the register open with my standard order programmed in.
"One more item today, Jer." I said to him, holding up the bottle of lubricant. He merely raised his bushy eyebrows and smiled, ushering me through.
"No need to pay for that one, with the amount of cereal you eat it must be a pretty inexperienced woman to have a thing for you!" He said, jokingly.
"Hey buddy, when you graduate from scanning my products to benefiting society, I'll take your opinion." I said, shoving the extra cash for the lube into his hand and walking out.
My hands were sweating all over the wheel of my car as I made the journey to my apartment. I raced in the door with my bags and set them on the table, and looked up to see Steve sitting there, watching TV.
"What are you doing here today bro?" I asked.
"Ah, I got the sack. By the way, did Lynn tell you before I left? There's some renovators coming in about 20 or so minutes to fix up the bathroom and buffer out some of those cracks in my walls, they're getting pretty damn big man."
"Oh. Cool." I responded. What the fuck! Where had this come from? Where would I bust this load now, my dick had been begging for it since I had arrived at the store and located the milk.
"How long will they take?" I inquired, covering my annoyance with nonchalance.
"Oh a few days or so. We're going to have to sleep and live down here for a while, is that cool?"
"Uh yeah, no worries... Where do I shit?" said I.
"Woah, uhm, well there's a public toilet not far away, a 1-2 minute walk, I was hoping you wouldn't mind if we could use that?" Steve said, going a little red in the face. This was really starting to get to me, however I retained my composure.
"Well dude, I don't know. Seems a bit of a stretch, but I guess we need to stop this place going to shit, so I'll have to cope." I was infuriated. He was sitting there, smug little grin on his face. He'd never done anything like this before. But I already knew what he was having for breakfast tomorrow morning. A quadruple shot bowl of Cheerios.
It was just a shame Lynn couldn't be there to enjoy it.
I grabbed my shopping off the table and walked back out the door. Steve looked up at me for a second inquisitively, then evidently dismissed the thought. I strolled on down to the public bathrooms in the park just near our place, and entered stealthily.
I unpacked my things onto the closed seat of the toilet. Tipping a fair portion of the milk into the toilet bowl, I grabbed up the cheerios and the cornflakes and made haste in emptying them into the partially drained bottle. I broke up the banana with my hands and added that too, I felt like I was on some rabid druggie cooking show. My cock rose up in my pants as I took the tube of lubricant and applied it to the rim of the bottle, my hands quivering with excitement.
Slowly I bent the completed orgasm tube towards my cock, a little of the contents spilling down my legs. One thrust, two thrusts, and it was in. And was it ever in. Jamming my dick back and forth out of this bottle was possibly equal with fucking Lynn's cereal VAGINA.
Suddenly from outside I heard the cruel laughter of young boys. Evidently just off some sort of bullying endeavour, they strutted into the bathroom, and started kicking my door. I screamed at them to fuck off, but they just laughed and kept doing it. Then Jack had a plan. Jack had a devious, evil plan.
I blocked out the noises of the kids smashing my door in, and kept furiously working the bottle back and forth along my cock. I started making noises, and there were a few distinct "What the fuck is he doing?" calls heard from outside, but nothing could stop me, this was everything I had been waiting for the whole day. I pushed harder and harder, my dick pulsating with carnal desire for my whole grain lover, when I felt my balls rumble.
It was time.
I ripped the bottle off my dick, and jerking myself furiously I charged out of the cubicle, cock dripping with milk and precum. And I fired the greatest load of sperm I think I have ever witnessed, from any human. The cum arced, and I watched almost in slow motion as if covered the baby face of some 12 year old ass hole, his backwards trucker's cap soaked in, his face a mask of terror. They all screamed like little bitches and fled before the advancing wrath of my throbbing member.
Instantly, I was hard again. I closed my sacred cubicle, and started pumping the bottle back and forth. Steve was going to enjoy his breakfast tomorrow, I thought to myself. Over about an hour I came four separate times into that bottle. My balls were black and blue, and I stumbled back to our place. Falling through the door, Steve was nowhere to be found. Hopefully he was out looking for work. I dropped onto the couch and set my watch alarm to wake me at 6am tomorrow morning to organise Steve's feast. It was about 8:30PM when I fell asleep.
The next morning I awoke to the beeping of my watch. Steve was on the floor, on some sort of mat that I didn't even know we owned. It looked pretty grungy, however it would have nothing on what he was about to eat. I got up groggily, sleep inertia clouding my senses, and stumbled to the fridge. Opening it, my jaw dropped. The bottle was gone.
I looked around, I couldn't see it anywhere. Had Steve found it? Had he already eaten it? Anxiety collected in the pit of my stomach. I ran into Lynn's room to see if I could find it, to find her, head tilted back, drinking the miasma of soggy cereal and four shots of my nut butter.
"Hey Jack. Work told me I needed to be back so I had to come. Speaking of come, this was pretty strong stuff. You been eating much raw salt lately?" she said, winking, and tossed the bottle into the corner and walked out of the room. I realised then that I wanted her again. I wasn't sure if she didn't want to take my dick any more or if she was playing hard to get, but I wanted her lips wrapped around my shaft, more than a good cold bowl of Cheerios.
But the fact still remained, Steve had escaped my wrath. So I formed a plan. A plan to win access to the warm bowl of Lynn's VAGINA and destroy the mind of Steve for subjecting me to the torture of those bastard children.
I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone.
Speaking to Steve, he said he was out last night at the bar, busy with his dealings with the ladies, as he likes to say. I decided to lie a little. I said that Lynn would be bedding in a hotel, and she told me to tell him this if he had woken up and she had left for work. He bought it like the docile fellow he is. I moved the conversation on to her room, and said that she had proposed that either of us could sleep in her bed. I decided to "martyr" myself for him, and allowed him to use it while she was away. He had a huge thing for her, and he'd probably skeet from just being in her room. I convinced him to have another night out at the pub, and that perhaps his luck would wax strong tonight with concerns to the "ladies". By no means was Steve an unattractive man, and I hoped he'd find some early consolation before having his mind obliterated.
Part A of the plan was complete. Part B would be initiated when Lynn arrived home from work. But first, a trip to the store for the supplies. The delivery must be perfect if I was to pull this off with maximum efficiency. Thus, away I went, and arrived home about an hour before Lynn was due home. Perfection. Steve had left the house too, even better.
Part B rolled into action. I had purchased a little something extra today from the chemist, and by purchased, I mean I asked my friend at the counter for it and he handed it over free of charge, on the condition that I explained the whole story to him. By the way Andrew, if you're out there, you're part of the reason I'm writing this. I know you're lurker. Anyway, I had me some Viagra. I didn't know what would happen if I took this, but I knew that if I was going to get as much semen into the bowl as I needed, then I was going to need stimulation worthy of Zeus.
When I arrived home, I poured myself a bowl and quickly shot off my first two loads. This wasn't even a challenge anymore. As my cock started to hurt, I took the viagra. Instantly I was revitalised, and managed a full three more loads sprayed into the bowl. But my last tablet I was saving for when Lynn got home. I quickly cleaned everything up and got to my room, where I lay in wait. My cock was in terrible pain, but I needed just one more load, for Lynn.
I heard the front door click open. It was about 11PM at the moment, she was about three hours late, which seemed odd. She walked inside, I heard the fridge open, and a grunt of dismay. She then called my name.
"Jack? You home?"
I decided not to respond. I was standing in her room, totally naked, packed of cornflakes on the floor, milk in one hand, and the quintuple shot Cheerio bowl in hand. I quickly trod on the "send" button on my phone, which lay beneath my feet. The message would arrive on Steve's phone any second.
"Get back here now, preferably with the girl you're talking to. I have a nice surprise for you two."
Steve was the kind of man that couldn't resist a good surprise, especially one which involved him and another woman. He'd be home soon.
The handle on the door to the room slowly began to turn. I had taken exorbitant amounts of viagra and my cock felt as if it was going to explode. The door creaked open, and there she was, in her work clothes, a tight black skirt, hair done up, and a suit jacket over her shoulders. Her blouse was bursting, it was just too small for her tits. I assumed she had been going for a raise today. She looked at me with mouth wide open. Her purse fell to the floor.
"Cheerios? 5 shots in this one." I calmly stated.
She rushed at me, facade of disinterest gone from her eyes. She grabbed the bowl from my hand and literally plunged her face into its depths. I could hear soft "Unghh" sounds from her diaphragm, my dick was so hard it was unbelievable. She noticed, and grabbed it, and began to rub it. The feeling was amazing. I managed to murmer;
"Cereal... In your pussy?"
She managed to nod amidst the devouring of my honey nut butter Cheerios. She sat down on her bed, and started eating, as I grabbed the milk, cereal and banana, and began to create my concoction. I poured it into her VAGINA and stuck my cock in as soon as I could. I was fucking her hard as she munched on the Cheerios, my cries of ecstasy mixed with her grunts and snorts of pleasure. She was in heaven, and so was I. I kept plunging my cock in and out, until I realised that we needed so add something. I turned her over, and spread her ass cheeks, shoving fistfuls of cornflakes and cheerios into her tight anus. In went the milk, followed closely by my banana. I had found the meaning of life. I was drilling her in the ass, an ass filled with delicious cereal and my meat, together creating a miasma of pleasure that made me see Jesus.
When suddenly the door ripped open, and we saw Steve standing there, complete with some unattractive whore he had found at the bar. His mouth was wider than Lynn's anus. But that wasn't stopping us. There was shit and milk everywhere, my room mate standing at the door to the room, and me fucking his lifelong love in her ass while she ate a bowl of semen infused Cheerios.
My relationship with Cheerios is now serious.
We haven't heard from Steve in a long time.
And the volume of the profanities he was screeching, well that I'll take to the grave.
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« on: February 04, 2015, 11:47:29 AM »
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« on: February 04, 2015, 11:21:05 AM »
BAAAHAHAHAA hAHAHAHAHahHAHhaha AHhahahhahaha *draws breath* hHAHAhAhahhaHAHAAhAhahaa ahahahahaaHAHAHAAAA! Oh man... that's some funny shit. Vegans are simply nothing more than faggots thinking they are taking some kind of idiotic moral high ground. NO HUMAN on this PLANET survives without killing something to sustain their life. So you don't eat animals. Or animal by-products. You eat plants. Plants are life. Even eating nothing but lab-harvested proteins and other nutrients has killed life of some kind. The clothes they wear are plants being killed. Even synthetics will have been produced with something being killed. Machines require energy to run, and those machines are built by sacrificing life at some point. The buildings they machines are built in, that land was cleared of life. Vegans kill bacteria just by walking around, that's life being destroyed. Scratching, yup - killing life. Washing yourself - killing life. Face it, no matter how hard you try, you are a murderer. Either on a macroscopic level, or a microscopic level, and anywhere in between. So spare me the high horse soapboxing. Vegans are no better than any other human. The only difference is they've deluded themselves into thinking they're some kind of fucking special people. The reality is they're special, all right. Special as in fucking retarded. Bovine byproducts - this is only the tip of the iceberg. 
341
« on: February 04, 2015, 10:06:01 AM »
Meat-eaters, how does it feel to know there's an entire group of individuals who are better individuals than you are? Meet vegans. They are better than you.
They understand their food better. They understand the basic principles of ethics better. They know how the factory farm system works better than you. They understand the pros and cons of eating meat (including fish and chicken) because with tofu you avoid all sorts of health problems.
They can probably cook, too, since following a vegan diet vastly limits your options (and this really pisses you off, since cooking was one thing you always wanted to do but could never really find any reason not to stuff your face with fast-food.) Oh, and they probably know meat better than you, too, since most advanced PETA vegans these days are ex-carnivores and ex-vegetarians users who managed to love the environment years ago when it was much less "popular."
At this point, a confident individual would admit to himself that he has a lot to learn about PETA and the environment in general, but since you have too much testosterone to do that you eat a hamburger, go to restaurants and keep repeating to yourself "at least I have friends. At least I can go out to dinner with people without being a dick." You're also probably very pleased about being able to eat whatever you want... because KFC or McDonald's have somehow managed to convince you that their greasy cruelty-encumbered food is healthy and taste is the most important thing to consider.
At this point you probably rationalize "well everyone I know is a carnivore, so I'm just going with the status quo!" as if that legitimizes your participation in cow genocide, or that becoming a vegan forces you to lose all taste for meat entirely.
Meet vegans. They're better than you.
This is what I'd say if I was a pretentious asshole vegan.
342
« on: February 04, 2015, 09:26:27 AM »
343
« on: February 03, 2015, 06:58:21 PM »
344
« on: February 03, 2015, 03:31:39 PM »
Your biggest regret in life?
345
« on: February 03, 2015, 01:21:14 PM »
 Describe this image without using the word "nigger".
346
« on: February 03, 2015, 11:47:30 AM »
 these two bitches gonna give me head tonight bet you losers dont get any bitches
347
« on: February 03, 2015, 11:41:36 AM »
348
« on: February 03, 2015, 10:56:53 AM »
 le post le me le mes le le le le le le
349
« on: February 03, 2015, 10:44:35 AM »
While their lyrics are edgy as shit and their fanbase is full of angsty, edgy teenagers, I think some of Linkin Park's songs are good. Especially remixes of them.
350
« on: February 03, 2015, 06:48:49 AM »
 mfw
351
« on: February 02, 2015, 07:30:31 PM »
352
« on: February 02, 2015, 07:15:13 PM »
I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I'm fucking retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me "Apache" and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can't accept me you're a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding. Please do not copy and paste this.
353
« on: February 02, 2015, 06:32:53 PM »
 Explain.
354
« on: February 02, 2015, 06:10:57 PM »
355
« on: February 02, 2015, 05:27:31 PM »
POST YOUR EDGIEST MUSIC. I AM FEELING VERY EDGY TODAY.
356
« on: February 02, 2015, 05:11:04 PM »
 This is rather frightening.
357
« on: February 02, 2015, 01:07:00 PM »
ITT: whatever picture is below your post is coming to rape you tonight. He/she/they/it is always stronger than you and will inflict horrible pain on you if you do not do as they want. No one else will ever learn about what happened.
358
« on: January 31, 2015, 12:14:35 PM »
It's been sitting in my computer for a few years seeing no use. Is it any fun to play? Anything you do to keep it entertaining?
359
« on: January 29, 2015, 09:24:38 PM »
360
« on: January 29, 2015, 09:54:51 AM »
Guys wearing plate armour and riding dirtbikes? Fucking awesome.
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