I f you sign, up, you can make up to a brillion Dolores. tP:::www. reggae reggau sauce.com/6
Ah, little sweet Dolores...
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
there'll be bums
Afrika Bambaataa - Looking For The Perfect Beat
key lime yogurt, yeah boyeeeee
im gay
me too, wanna be gay together
sure, why not whips out vagina
I'm not.
If you sign up,
You can earn much money and travel for free.
http://goo.gl/YLysV3
The day is always nearer than it was before
Running out of time as usual
The posts/day isn't a goal... it's a restraint. [Musical sting]
If you post,
You can get get much DNQ coins and a nice post number for free
https://bit.ly/2H4exGa
> So there were many knights that made there a vow that and ever they met with Morgan le Fay, that they would show her short courtesy.
Wow, that's pretty harsh, considering like this is a book where the heroes straight up behead most of the people who fuck with 'em.
Post again
and again
#Labor Union
province_event = {
id = 17500
title = "EVTNAME17500"
desc = "EVTDESC17500"
picture = "Revolution"
trigger = {
is_ideology_enabled = socialist
civilized = yes
is_colonial = no
OR = {
has_pop_type = artisans
has_pop_type = clerks
has_pop_type = craftsmen
has_pop_type = labourers
}
NOT = { has_province_modifier = labor_union }
owner = {
OR = {
government = prussian_constitutionalism
government = democracy
government = hms_government
government = absolute_monarchy
}
OR = {
trade_unions = non_socialist
trade_unions = all_trade_unions
}
}
}
mean_time_to_happen = {
months = 375
modifier = {
factor = 1.2
owner = {
nationalvalue = nv_liberty
}
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.2
OR = {
owner = {
nationalvalue = nv_autocracy
NOT = {
ruling_party_ideology = socialist
ruling_party_ideology = communist
}
}
owner = {
nationalvalue = nv_order
NOT = {
ruling_party_ideology = socialist
ruling_party_ideology = communist
}
}
}
}modifier = {
factor = 1.5
NOT = { socialist = 5 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
socialist = 10
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
socialist = 15
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
NOT = { any_pop = { social_reform_want = 0.05 } }
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
any_pop = { social_reform_want = 0.05 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
any_pop = { social_reform_want = 0.1 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
average_militancy = 4
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
NOT = { average_consciousness = 3 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
average_consciousness = 5
}
modifier = {
factor = 0.9
average_consciousness = 7
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.2
owner = { economic_policy = laissez_faire }
}
modifier = {
factor = 2
owner = { war = yes }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 50 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 45 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 40 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 35 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 30 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 25 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 20 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 15 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 10 }
}
modifier = {
factor = 1.5
owner = { num_of_cities = 5 }
}
}
}
option = {
name = "EVTOPTA17500"
state_scope = {
any_owned = {
add_province_modifier = {
name = labor_union
duration = -1
}
}
artisans = {
ideology = {
value = socialist
factor = 0.1
}
consciousness = 3
}
clerks = {
ideology = {
value = socialist
factor = 0.1
}
consciousness = 3
}
labourers = {
ideology = {
value = socialist
factor = 0.1
}
consciousness = 3
}
craftsmen = {
ideology = {
value = socialist
factor = 0.1
}
consciousness = 3
}
}
}
option = {
name = "EVTOPTB17500"
artisans = {
reduce_pop = 0.95
militancy = 3
}
clerks = {
reduce_pop = 0.95
militancy = 3
}
labourers = {
reduce_pop = 0.95
militancy = 3
}
craftsmen = {
reduce_pop = 0.95
militancy = 3
}
}}
I need to share this, and this thread seems the best place to. I've never had a waifu, I could just not connect. My standards for both 2D and 3D are tremendously high.
Recently we've been having a surge in cross dressing threads, and I really got into it. Long story short, I have found that I am my own waifu. I will create a nice dinner for myself, think of something to play on my piano, and masturbate the night away.
I'm already so excited, this must be how many of you have felt around your special someone for all this time.
Aristotle mayo
'!? ""
Punctuation Gomez
Precise Gomez would never make that mistake.
Cleaning up all the boolean errors after carving accurate panel lines into a frozen sub-d model is a pain in the ass.
I hate hate hate doing real-world stuff for a high functioning autistic audience.
I also am in this thread.
Bob Morris asked, almost conversationally, "what are the arguments to ld?" Someone told him. We continued typing for the next minute, as a thought began to percolate, not quite to the top of the brain-- in other words, not quite fast enough.
feeling very old today
not even my DQN deadlines are ever going to come to a closure
>>484
You're going to be feeling a lot older in about 8 days, I bet.
this banana flavoured milk is puke
this puke flavored banana is milk
this milk flavored puke is banana
this puke milk is banana flavored
This quiche has bit the dust! It's an unquiche!
thank you for being kind to me even though i'm useless and i put it in without permission
The man checking me in nods to security, calling them off. “It’s fine, I understand,” he tells me generously.
“It’s just, everything seems so gay,” I admit.
Suddenly, a whole team of handsome young football players burst into the lobby, shouting and cheering as they slap each other on the ass with playful enthusiasm. They are all shirtless, with boyish smiles and an intoxicating, vibrant charm.
“Hey,” I offer, “mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” the man says.
I take a few steps closer and then, as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I freeze. The figure relaxing in the tub before me is not a man at all, but a swirling ethereal manifestation of my suffocating existential dread.
I should have known better than to go out walking this late in the evening, as my most oppressive moments of cosmic dread typically happen when I’m all alone in the middle of the night. This is the time that I’m usually thinking about my tiny place in the world, or what it will be like to die.
“Or whether or not you’re in a Chuck Tingle novel,” my existential dread interjects.
I nod.
a
cosmic angst gomez
Bollocks to it all.
It's so difficult to refrain from binging on carbs, I find.
Reverse lame confession: Amazon probably thinks I bought this tin of Darjeeling tea because of the anime character but I really only bought it because it was an add-on item that cost just enough to make my order get free shipping.
The tea is pretty good, too.
this milk is puke-banana flavored
Like it or not, the hours you work will have a huge impact on the rest of your life. Not just the hours
themselves, but when and where they occur.
We like to think that we're defined by what's inside, and most of the time this is the case, but
when you spend as much time behind the bar as I do it also starts to change you in unexpected ways.
First of all, I can't even remember the last time I saw any of my daytime friends, the ones
who work away at their nine-to-fives while the sun hangs overhead and blesses them with all of those
good vibes and Vitamin-D. These are the ones who can grab dinner after work at pretty much any
restaurant they want, without stooping to the level of whatever fast food is still open while I'm
driving home, desperately trying to make it into bed by the time the sun starts creeping up over the
distant horizon.
The bizarre schedule kinda makes me feel like a vampire, which is cool I suppose, but I also
miss all of my friends.
Sure, every once in a while they'll stop by and grab a quick drink of milk, but when I'm on
the clock I don't have much time to chat, especially in a milk bar as crowded as this one. I can barely
get in a hug and make a bit of small talk, but the second this is over then it's back to the grind, mixing
up strawberry Quick and popping the caps off of ice cold chocolate milk in the glass bottle.
Unless it's a Sunday night, of course, but who wants to go out on a Sunday.
The second way working as a bartender changes you is that it builds your tolerance for slow,
stupid, or otherwise annoying people. There is more anger and vileness directed at me while I'm
serving milk than I could have ever imagined, and somehow I've learned to deal with it.
People hopped up on ice cold milk are already a little frustrating, but when they don't feel
like they're getting served fast enough, or when they simply want to start a fight, things quickly get
amplified.
Fortunately, I have a whole slew of bouncers ready to pounce at a seconds notice, grabbing
the offending patron by the neck and literally throwing them out to the curb on more than one
occasion. Fortunately, most of the indiscretions of these folks aren't quite bad enough for a forced
removal, they're just rude.
This is where the changes come in. Over the first few weeks I felt like I was more short
tempered than usual, but eventually all of that anger just stopped. I became thick-skinned, impervious
to any bad behavior that might have otherwise bummed me out for days. Now when I call on the
bouncers to kick someone out, I do it with a smile and a nod.
It sounds nice, and I guess it's better than losing my mind every couple of nights, but once
that wall has been built up it's a very, very difficult thing to tear down. I feel the emotion that I once
experienced drifting away, all of the anger and frustration and rage, but all of the excitement and joy,
as well.
Or maybe I'm just taking all of this a bit too seriously.
Regardless, here I am again, standing behind the bar and staring out mindlessly as my head
swirls with thoughts about how I ended up here and what kind of havoc it's wreaking on my life. The
voice of the man standing before me finally stamps me out of it.
"Hey, hey!" he shouts, waving.
I glance down at him, realizing now that I must have been zoning out for quite a while.
"Can I get a drink?" he asks.
I nod, quickly collecting myself.
"Just a two percent glass of the white stuff," the guy orders, clearly a little annoyed but also
not the biggest jerk I've ever encountered around here. Not by a long short.
After all, he has a point. Right now I'm on the clock; the introspection can wait. "Sorry about
that," I say, and then quickly get to work fixing his drink.
It's Sunday night, so fortunately things are slow enough that I can actually get away with a
little bit of relaxation on the job. However, that also means there's nobody else here to help me or to
give me a quick nudge when I turn into a complete weirdo and stare off into space.
I finish up and hand off the man's drink. "That'll be thirteen bucks," I inform him.
The guy pulls out his wallet and gives me a twenty, then takes his glass of two percent and
walks off to meet his group of friends in the corner booth. That's a hell of a tip for a bartender that
barely even knew he was there.
"We just thought we'd stop in and say hi," Gorbot says with a smile.
"It's been a while," my living cookie Shipple adds, "you stopped eating us last month and
now I feel like we never see you."
I roll my eyes. "I'm on a diet, you know this."
"Well, we figured we would come to you instead," Gorbot continues.
I shake my head, not knowing what to say and suddenly finding myself incredibly touched by
the food's love and support. I've only had these cookies in my cabinet for five or six weeks now, but I
have never felt anything but love for this collection of awesome deserts.
Of course, I'll admit that there are times when I realize this feeling of love may be a little
more sexually potent than I'd like to admit, but that kind of goes without saying when you consider the
fact that we're all pretty attractive and living in a post-college world where casual sex and hook ups
with your own living food is the norm. In reality, these cookies are completely off limits, there to eat
and nothing more, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my mind had wandered there once or twice.
I honestly think the thing that's most attractive about my five living cookies has nothing to do
with their handsome chocolate chip features; however, it's the fact that they seem a little competitive
for my attention and approval. Of course, Gorbot usually wins, but the quarreling will always be so
exciting to watch.
"You guys want something to drink?" I ask, continuing to pass out hugs left and right before
finally returning to my position behind the bar once more.
"Just a round of milks," Gorbot informs me.
I smile and fetch a few bottles for them, popping off the tops and then passing them out.
"How much?" my living cookie asks.
I laugh. "Please, these are on the house tonight."
"You sure, Nick?" Shipple chimes in. "Your boss isn't going to get mad?" He nods up
towards a security camera behind me, the menacing little box and it's blinking red light pointed
directly at us.
I smile and then lean in close to the crew of living cookies. "Top secret info. It's fake."
"Whoa, really?" Gorbot laughs.
I nod.
"Well alright then," my living cookie says, hoisting his milk into the air. "Let's party then!"
The desserts all cheer and for a brief moment I actually feel something, a wave of joy and
humanity washing across me in a soothing pulse. I had no idea what a welcome break this surge of
emotion would be until it comes.
Suddenly, however, I'm pulled back down to reality as I notice the guy that I had previously
helped is standing behind my living cookies, angrily trying to push past and make his way up to the
bar.
"Hey, what's up?" I question, putting up my wall again as the man arrives and set his glass
down angrily.
"This two percent tastes like skim," the man states bluntly.
Immediately, my living cookies go quiet, observing the situation with the intensity of
disciplined guard dogs, just waiting for their chance to pounce.
I glance at Gorbot, signally to him that everything is okay.
"Can I make you a new one?" I ask the man who had seemed so generous when he tipped me
before.
"I don't know, can you?" the man asks, a decidedly juvenile comeback. Obviously, this guy
has had a little too much milk tonight and is simply looking to start a fight, but I still remain perfectly
calm. I am made of stone, and nothing can penetrate my cool exterior.
"I sure can," I tell him, with a smile that comes across as genuine as it possibly can.
In most situations, this would be the end of it, but tonight this particular asshole is looking
for conflict and he's not backing down until he gets it. The man raises his glass up in the air and then
turns it over, pouring the drink out across the bar as I jump back in surprise.
Immediately, my living cookies are upon him, Gorbot laying the guy out in a single punch
while the others grab his crumpled body and begin to carry him towards the door. This would have
worked out just fine had the gentleman in question not been accompanied by a booth full of other
angry loudmouths who quickly come to his aid. The next thing I know, all hell has broken lose, the
entire bar now a tumbling fistfight between man and food. I glance over and see Rick, the bouncer,
running across the room and diving into the fray, pulling people apart and trying his best to deescalate
the situation.
"Them!" I yell to Rick, pointing at the group of angry patrons. "Get them out of here!"
The bouncer nods and, somehow, manages to separate the groups enough so that the fighting
stops momentarily.
"All of you," Rick yells, a fire in his eyes as he points to the asshole and his buddies, "get
the fuck out of here and don't you dare come back."
I can see now that the men are completely bruised and beaten, clearly not fairing well against
my muscular living cookies who all seem to be perfectly fine, not the least bit crumbly after this
unexpected battle.
I have to admit, for as violent as this brutish display was, there is something kind of hot
about the way that my living cookies all rushed in to defend me. I don't want to be proud of them,
especially after they threw the first punch, but I am. Maybe it's the fact that my emotions have been
kept so pent up inside lately, or maybe this is just a feeling that his been bubbling up within me for a
while. Whatever the reason, I can't help feeling the slightest bit aroused by the rough and tumble
deserts.
I know, I know, these are my living cookie's we're talking about here and there is absolutely
no way that anything could ever happen between us. The hint of desire that is sparking within me is
not something I would ever act on, but it feels so good to nurse and feed this little flame. After all, it's
just a fantasy, right? It's not like we are actually ever going to hook up, especially since there are five
of them left in the package and only one of me.
Still, I'll let them be my knights in shining armor for a brief moment.
Eventually, Rick convinces the angry patrons to leave, closing and locking the door behind
them.
"Let's shut it down," Rick says, "it's late and I don't have the patience to deal with anymore
dicks like that. I don't want you to have to wait around for customers that never come, either."
I nod. Typically, a bouncer would be the last guy to make this kind of call, but he's close
friends with the owner and I trust his judgment on this slow Sunday eve. Looks like nobody is that
interested in drinking milk tonight.
"Fair enough," I tell him. "I've just gotta clean up and let my living cookies finish their
drinks."
Rick glances over at the guys curiously. "Ah ha! I've heard a lot about you. Nick's had you in
his cupboard for a while now, right? I hear you taste great," he says, shaking everyone's hand. "I
thought you guys were just some random heroes for a minute there."
"Oh, they're heroes," I offer.
Eventually, Rick leaves and the whole gang of us finds ourselves with our own private bar
for the night.
We chat and catch up, enjoying each other's company over on a collection of vintage leather
couches in the back corner. The desserts even talk me into having a glass of skim for myself, which is
pretty nice and makes me loosen up a bit more.
My life has just gotten so tense lately, and the relief that I feel sitting around with these
handsome gay confectioneries is almost indescribable. I don't even fight it when my thoughts begin to
drift into the places where they shouldn't, noticing how toned and muscular Shipple's chips have
gotten, or sitting a little too close to Gorbot and placing my hand on his crumbling, baked edge.
The rest of my living cookies notice this but say nothing, clearly trying to play it off as a little
harmless fun like I am. I can't help but feel that we all sense it, however, the strange tension that has
infiltrated our collective. Maybe it's the milk, or the pulsing adrenalin left over from the fight earlier.
Whatever the cause, it's potent.
"I'm so glad you all came to see me," I tell Gorbot, gushing. "I really am. I mean, I just
spend so much time in this place feeling nothing at all, surrounded by people but closed off to
everyone. I feel like I can totally open up to you guys."
"Of course you can open up to us," Gorbot says, pulling me even closer to him, "we're your
cookies."
My heart skips a beat as our warmth mingles, the familiar scent of his sugary body wafting
into my nostrils.
"I feel like I can tell you anything," I finally admit, the words somehow taking on much more
weight than I ever expected them to. They seem to hang in the air before us, waiting patiently to be
taken advantage of.
"Like what?" Shipple finally asks, pulling the trigger. "Something on your mind, Nick?"
I shake my head, but can't help revealing myself with a mischievous smile that creeps out
across my face despite my best efforts to contain it. "No, just saying," I tell them.
Shipple eyes me suspiciously. "I've seen you devour enough of my friends to know when
you're full of it," he explains. "Come on, you can tell us. What's on your mind?"
I bite my lip, as if it could somehow keep my mouth from opening up and spilling the beans,
but my efforts are useless.
"Okay," I finally say, "but you have to promise that you won't think it's weird."
My living cookies all nod, every one of them locked onto me with rapt attention.
"I thought it was really sexy the way that you cookies all defended me," I finally admit.
The desserts all crack wide smiles, exchanging glances with one another.
Shipple shrugs and chuckles to himself. "That's your big secret, Nick? Do you realize how
sexy I think you are all the time?"
My breath catches in my throat as I try to remain composed. I don't want any of them to know
how horny this revelation makes me. Like I said before, I'm typically pretty great with my poker face,
but in this case I've let myself slip. It's almost as though I want to be caught.
I realize now just how badly I want to feel something, to let any emotions surge through me
the way that they used to before I took on this stupid job. I want to be free to make crazy impulsive
decisions, I want to be the one getting into trouble inside of breaking the trouble up.
"It's too bad you're my living cookies," I finally say, my voice trembling slightly. "You
know, food and nothing more."
"Why?" asks Gorbot, turning his brown cookie head to look down at me. I can feel his thumb
running back and forth across the flesh of my hip, testing my limits.
"Because we could all hook up if you weren't on my grocery list," I tell him, diving in
completely.
The cookies are silent, the entire gang of us as tense as we've ever been. Music plays softly
over the speakers above, doing it's best to fill in the awkward empty space while my heart nearly
pounds out of my chest.
Suddenly, Gorbot leans in and kisses me deeply on the mouth.
My first instinct is to pull away, but as the surge of relief washes over me I switch gears
completely. The floodgates have been opened and there is no going back. I am fully invested in this
gay fantasy now, and I intend to take things all the way. Even though I am perfectly straight, I'm
determined to get the homoerotic sensation that I so desperately crave from my dessert.
Suddenly overwhelmed with lust, I stand up from the leather couch, letting the guys watch me
like a pack of hungry animals while I stroll out into the middle of them.
"If we're gonna do this," I say, "let's fucking do it. Now stand up and get out those cocks of
yours."
Then cookies don't have to be told twice, rising from their chairs in the circle and then
quickly pulling out their massive, engorged shafts. I drop down into a squat between them, admiring
their impressive members as they surround me in a forest of sugary, living cookie dick.
Overwhelmed with gay arousal, begin to furiously suck them off, pumping my head up and
down over the length of their rods as I make my way around the circle. It appears that the desserts
weren't expecting such adept oral skill from their horny owner, but they quickly fall into step with my
passionate blowjobs, placing large, familiar hands on the back of my head and helping to pump me up
and down.
Eventually, I take one of my living cookie's giant rods and push it down as far as I can,
letting his length slide deep into the depths of my throat. Despite my enthusiasm, however, I'm not
quite ready for Shipple's incredible size and, the next thing I know, I'm gagging on his mammoth
baked dick.
The handsome confectionery pulls out as I sputter and gasp, trying desperately to collect my
senses. "I'm sorry, let's try that again," I offer.
I open wide and my living cookie slips his cock within for a second time, only now I've
somehow managed to relax enough to allow his manhood to be fully consumed. His cock sinks deeper
and deeper into my throat, finally coming to rest with his balls pressed tightly against my chin.
I look up at Shipple's chocolaty eyes and give a playful wink, allowing him to enjoy the
sensation of complete consumption as he holds me here.
Meanwhile, I reach out with each hand and grab ahold of two other massive living cookie
dicks, stroking them off in a series of slow, firm pumps. The desserts seem to enjoy this greatly,
letting out a chorus of deep moans as they trade positions within my hands.
Eventually, I run out of air and am finally forced to pull back with a gasp, releasing
Shipple's huge rod from my throat. I am so horny that I can hardly stand it, trembling with anticipation
as I look up at the gang with wild, lustful eyes.
"I can't believe this is happening," I tell them, "I can't believe I'm sucking off the leftover
cookies from my kitchen cabinet."
"Trust me, I can't believe it either," Shipple admits.
"I want you inside of me," I beg. "I need your big, sweet, cocks."
I stand up and walk over to a nearby coffee table, stripping my clothes off as I go and then
bending my toned, muscular body over it. I look back at the forbidden men coyly.
"Get over here and pound this tight gay ass!" I command.
My handsome living cookies immediately follow my instructions and, the next thing I know,
they have surrounded me once more, beating off their dicks while they watch Gorbot align his cock
with my puckered butthole. I can feel him teasing the edges of my tightness, then moments later he
slides deep inside of me.
I let out a sharp yelp as my body adjusts to my living cookie's massive size. He is absolutely
enormous, the thickness of his taboo shaft stretching my limits and filling me completely.
My muscular living cookie pumps in and out, slowly at first and then gaining speed with
every thrust until, eventually, he is pounding me with everything that he's got. The force of his
confident slams shakes the coffee table below me, our loud rhythm ringing out through the whole bar.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I begin to cry, unable to contain all of the pleasant prostate sensation as it
flows through me. "You're fucking me so good!"
I'm ready to continue my erotic diatribe but, at this point, another one of my living cookies
kneels down before me and shoves his massive rod between my lips. Suddenly, I find myself
completely silenced, unable to make any sound other than a wild grunt as I'm pounded from either
end.
These cookies slam away at me brutally but, surprisingly, the more rough they are with my
body, the more it turns me on. I want to be completely used by my living desserts, their own personal
sex toy for the evening.
Eventually, the confectionaries in both of my holes pull out and let another pair have a turn,
trading places within my tightness as they form lines at either end of the coffee table. Each living
cookie is just as skilled as the first, however, picking up right where the last one left off and plowing
away at my butt with a passionate fury.
I can feel the first hints of prostate orgasm begin to blossom within me, starting deep down in
my stomach and then spreading out as it courses across my arms and legs. I start to tremble and shake,
my muscles spasming while I reach a single hand down to stroke my cock.
Closer and closer I edge towards a powerful orgasm, almost reaching the final breaking
point when suddenly my living cookie pulls out of me and give my ass a hard slap.
I look back at him, confused. "What's going on?" I ask.
"There's something we've all joked about doing for a while," my living cookie admits. "I
think now is the time."
"What do you mean?" I question, not quite sure what to make of his erotic admission.
The handsome desserts don't answer, but two of them silently help me to my feet while I am
replaced on the coffee table by one of my living cookies. The familiar food is laying on his back, his
massive cock jutting out from his ripped body like a beautiful tower of aching flesh.
"Get on," he commands.
I do as I'm told, throwing my muscular legs around either side of the table and then
crouching down onto the massive dick below me. As my living cookie enters my reamed out butthole
I grab onto his shoulders, guiding my descent until I am completely impaled across the length of his
giant member.
It feels absolutely incredible, and my body instinctively begins to buck against him in slow
but firm swoops. Every grind of my hips grows harder and deeper, my body still trying to adjust to his
size until finally the sensation is just too incredible and I begin to fuck him hard, riding his dick like a
jackhammer.
"Fuck yes!" I scream, the sensation of orgasm boiling up within me once more. "Oh my god,
that dick is so fucking good! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
I'm so caught up in the moment that I barely notice a second muscular dessert climb into
position behind me. Suddenly, all of that changes however, as this leftover cookie places his thick
cock against the puckered entrance of my already filled asshole and slams forward, double
penetrating me ruthlessly.
I let out a wild scream of pain and pleasure, my body barely having any time to adjust to the
powerful fullness. I look back at my living cookie in shock, but what started as a moment of anger
quickly transforms into a lustful snarl. The feeling is unexpected, unlike anything I have ever
experienced, but it's also quite amazing.
Soon enough, I find myself fully enjoying the sensation of their double plugging. The three of
us eventually find a rhythm together, pulsing like some strange, sexual hybrid. My breathing heavy, I
reach down between my legs and begin to frantically beat my dick, adding even more pleasure to the
already overwhelming onslaught. My eyes roll back into my head as a long, powerful groan escapes
my throat.
"I'm gonna cum," I start chanting, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking cum so
hard!"
The tension within me has built to a breaking point, ready to burst as I tremble and shake
wildly. Everything in my body is clenched tight, just waiting to explode until finally it does and I let
out a roar of joyful ecstasy.
"I'm cumming!" I scream, my jizz flying everywhere.
The living cookies who are double fucking my butthole don't let up for a second, giving it to
me with everything that they've got and sticking with it throughout the entire orgasm. Every slam
within me just adds to the blinding throbs of sensation, treating me to wave after wave of bliss until,
finally, I fall forward in exhaustion. I am completely spent as I lay here against the food.
"That was fucking amazing," I gush.
These handsome desserts aren't finished with me yet, though.
The next thing I know, the living cookie who fucks my asshole from behind has picked up
speed, slamming me hard and then pushing deep as he explodes with a payload of hot chocolate
syrup. His warm sweetness fills my ass quickly, gushing forth with a supernatural intensity until its
squirting out from the edges of my packed anal rim.
"Fuck yeah, shoot that chocolate syrup deep into your owner's maxed out asshole," I
encourage. "Fill me up!"
When my living cookie finally pulls out a whole torrent of chocolate comes with him, the
liquid running down my ass and providing ample lube for the next living confectionery in line.
Soon enough, another edible lover has stepped up to take the last one's place, aligning the
head of his shaft with my rim and then plowing forward in a second, brutal double anal penetration.
My toned living cookie quickly gets to work slamming my butthole, enjoying my tightness and then
thrusting deep to release a load of his own.
"Oh shit!" I cry out, my handsome lover's syrup swirling within me as it mixes with the
sticky sweetness that came before it.
My living cookie stays put until he has completely emptied himself and then finally pulls out
to allow a third one to take his place.
The guys continue like this for what seems like forever, plowing my reamed butthole and
then eventually blowing their load into the mix with the others. Eventually, the last living cookie
finishes within me and I find myself with only one left to satisfy, Gorbot, who has been so diligently
ramming my ass from the front.
Gorbot pushes me off of him and then stands up, beating off his dick furiously while I look up
and smile from my knees below. I stick out my tongue, coaxing him onward until finally my living
cookie explodes across my face. His warm, brown spunk flies everywhere, though I manage to catch
quite a bit of it in my mouth and then swallow hungrily.
"That was really nice," I tell Gorbot, "you taste great."
Gorbot reaches down and takes me by the hand, helping me to my feet. "Of course, I do, I'm
four hundred calories of nothing but fat and sugar."
I glance around the circle of handsome gay desserts, the guys looking beautifully toned and
muscular as they catch their breath in the dim light of the bar.
"We can't tell anyone," I remind my living cookies. "I don't want to have to fuck everything
in the entire kitchen."
"Of course not," Gorbot assures me. "Never again."
I think about this for a moment and then suddenly shake my head. "On second thought, tell
everyone you can. I can't want to see what a living cheeseburger feels like pounding away at my
butt."
The cookies all burst into a fit of laugher and we all exchange enthusiastic high fives.
interesting captchas encountered over the course of this copype:
lick
fite
soy
marble
Everyone relies on Punctual Gomez, but you should never take people for granted.
hey guys, I'm here just in time to save the day!
gastrointestinal gomez
phallic gomez
fiscally responsible gomez
unacknowledged regret gomez
despicably gorgeous gomez
meta gomez
IN AN INTERSTELLAR BURST
I'M BACK TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE!
You can (not) post
just gotta bust my butt and finish this thing so I can do the stuff I want to do
I can't believe the time of my prophesised death is coming this month. There were still many things I wanted to do!
Relaxed fishing gnomez
Plain ol' Gomez
Jerkboy Gomez who gets laid a lot more than you.
Sweet-&-Sour Gomez
It's so close, I just might shed a nut-tear
Gomez told me to get spicy lube
Irrelevant Gomez just stays at home all day.
There's something satisfying about reviving dead torrents. It's certainly not important in the grand scheme, but it's neat to find something where there are those three or four leechers who've been holding out for years and prove their hope was not in vain. We'll never know each other, but I guess that's the beauty of the Internet.
Spicy chicken flavoured lube, that was my idea
pairing knife: a utensil used to separate crack ships
Seasons will pass you by