I am switching back to booze right now as well. Since my roommate is passed out it doesn’t count as drinking alone right?
LITTLE SPOON!
One day me and my gf were alone in her home. I had plans for her so I got her real drunk but I got drunk too. Then I completely undressed her and had wild sex. Really wild. So she was completely naked and sleeping, but I was still awake. I was drunk so I don’t remember why I did this. I was turning in bed a lot so I guess she god uncomfortable and she hummed a little in her sleep, so I leaned over to her ear and whispered: “Hush little baby don’t say a word, and nevermind that noise you heard.” then continued and slowly increased my voice “it’s just a beast under your bed… in your closet, in your head!” she slowly began opening her eyes, I got panicked and fucking screamed at the top of my lungs to her ear: “EEEEEXIIIIIT LIIIIIGHT!” she screamed, got up and hit her head to the wall. I got even worse panicked and didn’t know what to do. While she was trying to locate the source of the scream, I quickly spat on her eyes and fucking screamed again “EEEEENTEEER NIIIIIIIIGHT!” and Falcon Punch’d her in teh face. She slammed her head to the wall again and fell unconcious. I checked her pulse, she was alive. But all this action got me real horny so I fapped and cummed to her face and hair. Then I hugged her and went to sleep.
After a few days, I broke up with her because she started to remember bit and pieces of moments from that night. Stupid bitch probably still think it was a dream. Now I spend my days fapping to incest hentai. And I love Metallica.
Well you’re talking to people on the intrenets as well so i guess you arent alone…
Buy my F-Body?
^No. We both know that you’re just another chicken shit faggot who wouldn’t have the balls to say that to my face. I’d kick your ass just like I do all the other faggots. I’d fucking stomp you. Just be thankful you’re on the internet and I don’t know who you are. You little bitch.
My tongue was in your ear like four days ago. Oh wait that was my ear. EWWWW :nohomo:
YOu don’t know who you’re fuckin with. I’m a 216 pound black man. I work as a security guard for a professional skater. I do carry guns, and I have been trained to use them in the event of an emergency and have been trained where to shoot to show self defense. I also have a 11 inch cock that I’m gonna ram up your ass.
This is better than TV. 
for your information, asshole, I have seen a lion. And not one of your crap ass queen of the jungle homoerotic pussy-cat lions. A real lion, with fangs and horns and wings and shit. Don’t pull your fucking wierd ass african voodoo hypnosis crap on me when you don’t even know wtf you’re talking about.
pics?
I’m in tears laughing. Thank you for making my night.:roflpicard:
nvrmnd
HAHAHSGAHAHAHAHAHGAHG!!!1!1!!1!!11!!!
I remember I was hammering on a fence in the backyard when my dad approached me. He was carrying a letter or something in his hand, and he looked worried. I continued to hammer as he came toward me. “Son,” he said, “why are you hammering on that fence? It already has plenty of nails in it.” “Oh, I’m not using nails,” I replied. “I’m just hammering.” With that, I returned to my hammering. Dad asked me to stop hammering, as he had some news. I did stop hammering, but first I got a couple more hammers in, and this seemed to make Dad mad. “I said, stop hammering!” he yelled. I think he felt bad for yelling at me, especially since it looked like he had bad news. “Look,” he said, “you can hammer later, but first–” Well, I didn’t even wait to hear the rest. As soon as I heard “You can hammer,” that’s what I started doing. Hammering away, happy as an old hammer hog. Dad tried to physically stop me from hammering by inserting a small log of some sort between my hammer and the fence. But I just kept on hammering, 'cause that’s the way I am when I get that hammer going. Then, he just grabbed my arm and and made me stop. “I’m afraid I have some news for you,” he said. I swear, what I did next was not hammering. I was just letting the hammer swing lazily at arm’s length, and maybe it tapped the fence once or twice, but that’s all. That apparently didn’t make any difference whatsoever to Dad, because he just grabbed my hammer out of my hand and flung it across the field. And when I saw my hammer flying helplessly through the air like that I just couldn’t take it. I burst out crying, I admit it. And I ran to the house, as fast as my legs could take me. “Son, come back!” yelled Dad. “What about your hammer?!” But I could not have cared less about hammering at that point. I ran into the house and flung myself onto my bed, pounding the bed with my fists. I pounded and pounded, until finally, behind me, I heard a voice. “As long as you’re pounding, why not use this?” I turned, and it was Dad, holding a brand-new solid-gold hammer. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and ran to Dad’s outstretched arms. But suddenly, he jumped out of the way, and I went sailing through the second-story window behind him. Whenever I hear about a kid getting in trouble with the drugs, I like to tell them this story.
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can we get to 10 pages
YES I just cracked another beer.