Tag: humor

I’m a grown-ass dude, but that don’t stop me from jorkin’ it like a madman.  I’m talking enough kinetic energy to start a damn fire, using a bow-and-drill setup during a once-in-a-century, tropical downpour.  If it weren’t for the lube, my wiener would look worse than Vader’s burnt-ass— Suddenly my heart seizes and abruptly flatlines. …

What the ass-bulb is happening, all you colon-stuffing adventurers who stuck a super durable, light-emitting device up your bunghole in a drunken stupor then completely forgot about it, now you’re wandering past CERN as it opens a wormhole into other dimensions and triggers glitches in the electromagnetic paradigm all through the universe, as a result…

While I’m under Taylor’s desk, eating out her Grammy-award-winning pop-star-vajeen, she squeezes my head with both her thighs.  It turns my cheeks purplish-red—my eye-veins swell and visibly throb, to the point where you can watch them and clock my pulse.  Then, as she gasms, she bangs my head against her desk. “OW!”  I rub my…

What the dickmatyzation is happening, all you meatslingers who’ve got it all (the beer can width, perfect amount of melanin across the shaft and the head, aesthetically distributed veins, and, most important of all, a g-spot hammering upcurve) and decide to parade through town, proudly swaying your hips and letting that knee-knocker dangle betwixt your…

While I’m proud of my accomplishments as an award-winning Man Whore, I’m a low-key dude who—just like the rest of you low-key dudes—enjoys making ape-noises and trying to see if I can use the Force by trying to move the baaaarely out-of-reach remote control using a curled-hand gesture and an intense-ass stare.  Yeah, that’s why…

What the swamp-dick is happening, all you neglectful meat-slingers who build up a plethora of cheese and ectoplasm only to loosen the draw-strings on your shorts and cause mass-seizures across half the continent, Bigfoots crawl across the forest ground, begging in their strange, horn-like language with tears matting the fur on both their cheeks, paint…

Bezos busts through the wall, sighting in on me with dozens of unnecessarily visible aiming-lasers, mounted on the shoulders of his billion-dollar mech-suit.  “What the fuck?”  I jump out of bed and cover my gigantic penis with a nearby pillow. A band of shadow descends on his eyes.  “Penis…ROCKETS!” No time to think—I leap and…