About to get blown

[ChefChiTown]

He still hasn't come back yet? Well, we all know who to blame...

:cussing: OBAMAAAAA!!! :cussing:

 

[Violator79]

Yeah I hope tube's alright. I wonder if the sensation was too much for him?

 

[jamrak]

He still hasn't come back yet? Well, we all know who to blame...

:cussing: OBAMAAAAA!!! :cussing:

wait, did you mean that...? I mean, did you mean that a chick who was about to suck his cock in fact was..
oh, no, he could not just think what I think he did, didn't he?

forget about it :bowdown:

 

[Will E Worm]

So, where is he? I guess he and his cousin were caught behind the shed at the family reunion.

Scandalous.

 

[hedonis]

Well... tubuler was going to get blown....

I'm doing laundry. In fifteen minutes, I'm going to have wet socks going into the dryer.

 

[jamrak]

Point of no return!



Only 2 minutes left, before got blown... up

 

[tubuler]

I awoke two days later in a daze. "What happened?" I said.

Then it started to come back to me.

15 minutes after I started this thread she arrived. Long black hair, blue eyes (probably contacts), and skinny. Almost too skinny. All except for a pooch stomach. Although it looks a little too big to be just a pooch. I think to myself, "There's no way this chick is pregnant. No way a pregnant woman would do this."

She takes a long last drag of her cigarette and says, "You ready to do this thing sweety." (hookers and strippers always call pathetic guy customers "sweety") Guess she's not the procrastinating type.

She looks good. But i think the lighting helps a lot. I always make sure that I light my apartment with red and black light for these kinds of occassions. You see, the red light erases scars and bruises, zits, stretch marks, some tattoos as well as track marks. The black light makes their eyes and teeth shine bright white.

We waste no more time as I sit down and unzip. She starts to blow me and I start running the horror reel in my head. Visions of mass graves, gaping head wounds, maggot infested rotting meat. Whatever it takes to make it last. If I think too much about whats really happening I'll trigger too fast. And if that happens, I just wasted 50 bucks.

I can't keep the horror show going for long though. My mind keeps wandering. It switches from disgusting thoughts of blood and gore to the reality of my situation. This stranger sucking my cock. Her belly. If I had to guess, I'd say she's 3 to 4 months pregnant. The sick reality of that would be too much for most people. But not for me.

Listening to the sloppy wet sound of her mouth on my tool makes me swell up more. If I keep paying attention to it I'll trigger. I look at the clock. It's only been 4 minutes. I've gotta keep this going. So I think of something else disgusting.

This whores medical history. "What diseases does this slut probably have?" I wonder. Plus she's pregnant. There's a mnemonic for the types of diseases a mother can pass to her baby. It's TORCH: Toxoplasmosis, Other (meaning syphilis and HIV), Rubella, Cytomegalovirus, and Herpes. It helps if you can picture a mother passing the TORCH to her baby.

I look at the clock. 8 minutes have passed now. I better cum soon. They get pissed if you take too long. And in a whores world, 10 minutes is an eternity.

I let myself think about her now. I tell her how good it feels. I tell her how beautiful she looks. I guess I say these things to make the moment feel like something it's not. To make it feel better than it really is. Because once this moment is over, I'll hate her. The moment I've unloaded into her whore mouth, I won't even want to look at her.

The only person I'll hate more than her is myself.

These are the only few minutes where I truly feel human.

8 minutes where I don't feel like I'm alone.

Now it's over. She leaves without saying a word.

A few minutes later I turn the regular lights back on. I take a swig of my PBR and get ready to log onto Freeones and update this thread. As I get up to walk over to my computer I notice something on the floor. A twisted up corner of a plastic bag. Inside it is a chunky, greyish-white powder. Cocaine? Maybe heroin? I'm not sure. That whore must have dropped it while she was blowing me.

I untwist it and dip my pinky finger inside. Taste it. Heroin. I think. Definitely not cocaine.

"What to do now?" That's what most people would say to themselves. Not me. I just grab a credit card and a rolled up dollar bill. Why not catch a buzz before I let everyone at Freeones know about my exploits? "Spread 'em out." That's my motto. Snort first, ask questions later.

Looking down on my glass coffee table, little lines, all in a row like little soldiers. Irresistable to a deviant like me.

"Sniiifffff!" Up it goes.

"Oh shit..." Something isn't right. I'm losing my bearings. Vertigo sets in and I'm dizzy. I can't stand up.

My cell phone is next to me. I pick it up. But who to dial? 911? Cops will come. Can't have that. So I dial my mother. I get her voicemail. Of course. I'm dying and I get her fucking voicemail. Figures.

The phone beeps in my ear. I need to say something. I can hardly move. I'm blacking out and I think these will be my last words. Nothing comes to mind. So I just say "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so...."

Then, nothing. Just black.

(Got back to you as soon as I could guys. Obviously, the delay could not be helped)

 

[Violator79]

I awoke two days later in a daze. "What happened?" I said.

Then it started to come back to me.

15 minutes after I started this thread she arrived. Long black hair, blue eyes (probably contacts), and skinny. Almost too skinny. All except for a pooch stomach. Although it looks a little too big to be just a pooch. I think to myself, "There's no way this chick is pregnant. No way a pregnant woman would do this."

She takes a long last drag of her cigarette and says, "You ready to do this thing sweety." (hookers and strippers always call pathetic guy customers "sweety") Guess she's not the procrastinating type.

She looks good. But i think the lighting helps a lot. I always make sure that I light my apartment with red and black light for these kinds of occassions. You see, the red light erases scars and bruises, zits, stretch marks, some tattoos as well as track marks. The black light makes their eyes and teeth shine bright white.

We waste no more time as I sit down and unzip. She starts to blow me and I start running the horror reel in my head. Visions of mass graves, gaping head wounds, maggot infested rotting meat. Whatever it takes to make it last. If I think too much about whats really happening I'll trigger too fast. And if that happens, I just wasted 50 bucks.

I can't keep the horror show going for long though. My mind keeps wandering. It switches from disgusting thoughts of blood and gore to the reality of my situation. This stranger sucking my cock. Her belly. If I had to guess, I'd say she's 3 to 4 months pregnant. The sick reality of that would be too much for most people. But not for me.

Listening to the sloppy wet sound of her mouth on my tool makes me swell up more. If I keep paying attention to it I'll trigger. I look at the clock. It's only been 4 minutes. I've gotta keep this going. So I think of something else disgusting.

This whores medical history. "What diseases does this slut probably have?" I wonder. Plus she's pregnant. There's a mnemonic for the types of diseases a mother can pass to her baby. It's TORCH: Toxoplasmosis, Other (meaning syphilis and HIV), Rubella, Cytomegalovirus, and Herpes. It helps if you can picture a mother passing the TORCH to her baby.

I look at the clock. 8 minutes have passed now. I better cum soon. They get pissed if you take too long. And in a whores world, 10 minutes is an eternity.

I let myself think about her now. I tell her how good it feels. I tell her how beautiful she looks. I guess I say these things to make the moment feel like something it's not. To make it feel better than it really is. Because once this moment is over, I'll hate her. The moment I've unloaded into her whore mouth, I won't even want to look at her.

The only person I'll hate more than her is myself.

These are the only few minutes where I truly feel human.

8 minutes where I don't feel like I'm alone.

Now it's over. She leaves without saying a word.

A few minutes later I turn the regular lights back on. I take a swig of my PBR and get ready to log onto Freeones and update this thread. As I get up to walk over to my computer I notice something on the floor. A twisted up corner of a plastic bag. Inside it is a chunky, greyish-white powder. Cocaine? Maybe heroin? I'm not sure. That whore must have dropped it while she was blowing me.

I untwist it and dip my pinky finger inside. Taste it. Heroin. I think. Definitely not cocaine.

"What to do now?" That's what most people would say to themselves. Not me. I just grab a credit card and a rolled up dollar bill. Why not catch a buzz before I let everyone at Freeones know about my exploits? "Spread 'em out." That's my motto. Snort first, ask questions later.

Looking down on my glass coffee table, little lines, all in a row like little soldiers. Irresistable to a deviant like me.

"Sniiifffff!" Up it goes.

"Oh shit..." Something isn't right. I'm losing my bearings. Vertigo sets in and I'm dizzy. I can't stand up.

My cell phone is next to me. I pick it up. But who to dial? 911? Cops will come. Can't have that. So I dial my mother. I get her voicemail. Of course. I'm dying and I get her fucking voicemail. Figures.

The phone beeps in my ear. I need to say something. I can hardly move. I'm blacking out and I think these will be my last words. Nothing comes to mind. So I just say "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so...."

Then, nothing. Just black.

(Got back to you as soon as I could guys. Obviously, the delay could not be helped)

You have proof for all that right? :helpme:

 

[tubuler]

^Oh yeah. Tons.

 

[ChefChiTown]

I awoke two days later in a daze. "What happened?" I said.

Then it started to come back to me.

15 minutes after I started this thread she arrived. Long black hair, blue eyes (probably contacts), and skinny. Almost too skinny. All except for a pooch stomach. Although it looks a little too big to be just a pooch. I think to myself, "There's no way this chick is pregnant. No way a pregnant woman would do this."

She takes a long last drag of her cigarette and says, "You ready to do this thing sweety." (hookers and strippers always call pathetic guy customers "sweety") Guess she's not the procrastinating type.

She looks good. But i think the lighting helps a lot. I always make sure that I light my apartment with red and black light for these kinds of occassions. You see, the red light erases scars and bruises, zits, stretch marks, some tattoos as well as track marks. The black light makes their eyes and teeth shine bright white.

We waste no more time as I sit down and unzip. She starts to blow me and I start running the horror reel in my head. Visions of mass graves, gaping head wounds, maggot infested rotting meat. Whatever it takes to make it last. If I think too much about whats really happening I'll trigger too fast. And if that happens, I just wasted 50 bucks.

I can't keep the horror show going for long though. My mind keeps wandering. It switches from disgusting thoughts of blood and gore to the reality of my situation. This stranger sucking my cock. Her belly. If I had to guess, I'd say she's 3 to 4 months pregnant. The sick reality of that would be too much for most people. But not for me.

Listening to the sloppy wet sound of her mouth on my tool makes me swell up more. If I keep paying attention to it I'll trigger. I look at the clock. It's only been 4 minutes. I've gotta keep this going. So I think of something else disgusting.

This whores medical history. "What diseases does this slut probably have?" I wonder. Plus she's pregnant. There's a mnemonic for the types of diseases a mother can pass to her baby. It's TORCH: Toxoplasmosis, Other (meaning syphilis and HIV), Rubella, Cytomegalovirus, and Herpes. It helps if you can picture a mother passing the TORCH to her baby.

I look at the clock. 8 minutes have passed now. I better cum soon. They get pissed if you take too long. And in a whores world, 10 minutes is an eternity.

I let myself think about her now. I tell her how good it feels. I tell her how beautiful she looks. I guess I say these things to make the moment feel like something it's not. To make it feel better than it really is. Because once this moment is over, I'll hate her. The moment I've unloaded into her whore mouth, I won't even want to look at her.

The only person I'll hate more than her is myself.

These are the only few minutes where I truly feel human.

8 minutes where I don't feel like I'm alone.

Now it's over. She leaves without saying a word.

A few minutes later I turn the regular lights back on. I take a swig of my PBR and get ready to log onto Freeones and update this thread. As I get up to walk over to my computer I notice something on the floor. A twisted up corner of a plastic bag. Inside it is a chunky, greyish-white powder. Cocaine? Maybe heroin? I'm not sure. That whore must have dropped it while she was blowing me.

I untwist it and dip my pinky finger inside. Taste it. Heroin. I think. Definitely not cocaine.

"What to do now?" That's what most people would say to themselves. Not me. I just grab a credit card and a rolled up dollar bill. Why not catch a buzz before I let everyone at Freeones know about my exploits? "Spread 'em out." That's my motto. Snort first, ask questions later.

Looking down on my glass coffee table, little lines, all in a row like little soldiers. Irresistable to a deviant like me.

"Sniiifffff!" Up it goes.

"Oh shit..." Something isn't right. I'm losing my bearings. Vertigo sets in and I'm dizzy. I can't stand up.

My cell phone is next to me. I pick it up. But who to dial? 911? Cops will come. Can't have that. So I dial my mother. I get her voicemail. Of course. I'm dying and I get her fucking voicemail. Figures.

The phone beeps in my ear. I need to say something. I can hardly move. I'm blacking out and I think these will be my last words. Nothing comes to mind. So I just say "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so...."

Then, nothing. Just black.

(Got back to you as soon as I could guys. Obviously, the delay could not be helped)

Soooo, she never showed up?

 

[GabberMan]

Why do these ever-so pre-virginal things keep cropping up?

Freeones:

18 and over only.

 

[tubuler]

Soooo, she never showed up?

Of course she did. Didn't you read my post? Totally believable.

And totally well written I might add. Certainly not the work of a "pre-virginal" teenager. And btw, "pre-virginal" isn't a word. How the fuck can you be "pre-virginal"? Maybe timbo can tell us.

 

[tunsty]

And btw, "pre-virginal" isn't a word.

No, it's two words...


http://www.answers.com/pre

http://www.answers.com/virginal

Put them together and they make perfect sense.. which is more than I can say about your posts. :2 cents:

 

[meesterperfect]

you did the drugs you found on the floor?
you weren't even sure what it was?

are you insane?

tube man, you should know better.

 

[BlueBalls]

For those about to blow say I . . .


Or should that be, For those who are about to be blown say I :dunno:

Either way, its all good

 

[stampede2873]

Wasted few minutes of reading this post.... I cry :lame:

 

[jibbijib]

Wow you people take things way to seriously.

 

[BlueBalls]

Wow you people take things way to seriously.

Well it is a forum based around pornography, so :dunno:

 

[tunsty]

Wow you people take things way to seriously.

Not me... :nono:

Ask anyone :yesyes:

 

[CRASHnBURN]

I awoke two days later in a daze. "What happened?" I said.

Then it started to come back to me.

15 minutes after I started this thread she arrived. Long black hair, blue eyes (probably contacts), and skinny. Almost too skinny. All except for a pooch stomach. Although it looks a little too big to be just a pooch. I think to myself, "There's no way this chick is pregnant. No way a pregnant woman would do this."

She takes a long last drag of her cigarette and says, "You ready to do this thing sweety." (hookers and strippers always call pathetic guy customers "sweety") Guess she's not the procrastinating type.

She looks good. But i think the lighting helps a lot. I always make sure that I light my apartment with red and black light for these kinds of occassions. You see, the red light erases scars and bruises, zits, stretch marks, some tattoos as well as track marks. The black light makes their eyes and teeth shine bright white.

We waste no more time as I sit down and unzip. She starts to blow me and I start running the horror reel in my head. Visions of mass graves, gaping head wounds, maggot infested rotting meat. Whatever it takes to make it last. If I think too much about whats really happening I'll trigger too fast. And if that happens, I just wasted 50 bucks.

I can't keep the horror show going for long though. My mind keeps wandering. It switches from disgusting thoughts of blood and gore to the reality of my situation. This stranger sucking my cock. Her belly. If I had to guess, I'd say she's 3 to 4 months pregnant. The sick reality of that would be too much for most people. But not for me.

Listening to the sloppy wet sound of her mouth on my tool makes me swell up more. If I keep paying attention to it I'll trigger. I look at the clock. It's only been 4 minutes. I've gotta keep this going. So I think of something else disgusting.

This whores medical history. "What diseases does this slut probably have?" I wonder. Plus she's pregnant. There's a mnemonic for the types of diseases a mother can pass to her baby. It's TORCH: Toxoplasmosis, Other (meaning syphilis and HIV), Rubella, Cytomegalovirus, and Herpes. It helps if you can picture a mother passing the TORCH to her baby.

I look at the clock. 8 minutes have passed now. I better cum soon. They get pissed if you take too long. And in a whores world, 10 minutes is an eternity.

I let myself think about her now. I tell her how good it feels. I tell her how beautiful she looks. I guess I say these things to make the moment feel like something it's not. To make it feel better than it really is. Because once this moment is over, I'll hate her. The moment I've unloaded into her whore mouth, I won't even want to look at her.

The only person I'll hate more than her is myself.

These are the only few minutes where I truly feel human.

8 minutes where I don't feel like I'm alone.

Now it's over. She leaves without saying a word.

A few minutes later I turn the regular lights back on. I take a swig of my PBR and get ready to log onto Freeones and update this thread. As I get up to walk over to my computer I notice something on the floor. A twisted up corner of a plastic bag. Inside it is a chunky, greyish-white powder. Cocaine? Maybe heroin? I'm not sure. That whore must have dropped it while she was blowing me.

I untwist it and dip my pinky finger inside. Taste it. Heroin. I think. Definitely not cocaine.

"What to do now?" That's what most people would say to themselves. Not me. I just grab a credit card and a rolled up dollar bill. Why not catch a buzz before I let everyone at Freeones know about my exploits? "Spread 'em out." That's my motto. Snort first, ask questions later.

Looking down on my glass coffee table, little lines, all in a row like little soldiers. Irresistable to a deviant like me.

"Sniiifffff!" Up it goes.

"Oh shit..." Something isn't right. I'm losing my bearings. Vertigo sets in and I'm dizzy. I can't stand up.

My cell phone is next to me. I pick it up. But who to dial? 911? Cops will come. Can't have that. So I dial my mother. I get her voicemail. Of course. I'm dying and I get her fucking voicemail. Figures.

The phone beeps in my ear. I need to say something. I can hardly move. I'm blacking out and I think these will be my last words. Nothing comes to mind. So I just say "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so...."

Then, nothing. Just black.

(Got back to you as soon as I could guys. Obviously, the delay could not be helped)

What? no Fresh Prince punchline?