To me the greatest appeal of Jedi powers has always been the endless sexual possibilities they open up.
It would be pretty awesome to be an ancient Jedi healing master so I could use my lightsaber to safely amputate and cauterize my gf's limbs and have all kinds of crazy amputee sex with her (it's really annoying how "amputee porn" is something of a porn cliche yet it is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to find online and when you do it's either greasy poorly lit 70's porn or on a specialty site that costs 50 bucks a month). Give her some scuba gear and mount her so that it's like I'm a mouse riding a cork on the ocean, grab an oar and wear a captains hat and pretend I am an intrepid explorer.
Of course if the coast guard apprehended me and asked me what the fuck I was doing I could do the whole Jedi mind trick "move along, this is completely normal consensual activity" thing and they'd salute and send me on my merry way.
When we reached shore I could pogo stick home and then I'd reattach her limbs and she'd cuddle up on the sofa with me as we watched the directors cut of Blade Runner.
My good lady I must express my sincerest condolences for your treatmant at the hands of such brutish Phillistines. While my sexual proclivities are well known I would never be so gauche as to blindly verbally ejaculate my erotic desires to every female who enters my field of vision. One must build up a repore first. Hypnotize her with your charm and class until she holds you in such high regard so that any "unusual request" you make no matter how deviant becomes acceptable.
River sex is a beautiful thing, as is taking a helicopter to the top of an isolated mountain in the Himalayas, stripping a petite and willing lady nude covering her in various exotic oils and giving her an icewater enema until she appears 12 months pregnant, plugging the ineveitable torrent of water with my protrusion, strapping her bodice to the outside of my snowsuit and skiblading down, making sure to hit the well placed jumps that send us sailing through the air using my skills as an acrobat to make somersaults and twists of multiple revolutions causing her swollen shivering belly to undulate and flip up to her nose and down past her feet like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon (Which are filmed by my pilot for my later amusement and that of the private mens club of which I am chair) before detatching my skis and sledding the last half mile on her stomach as she lets out an ear splitting "gheeeee!!!" (which is no doubt an expression of an orgasm of such transcendant force that it gives injustice to our typical terms for sexual pleasure.) making sure to skillfully switch positions so that she is on her back and I can stare intently at her face (the expressions they make are of endless variety with the only consistency being their intensity) using her pigtails to steer a course to the last jump which sends us splashing into an artificial hot spring whereupon I remove myself and her stomach shrinks back to normal size as the water sprays in a magnificent arch from her floating body like a kind of Caligulaic fountain and I let out a triumphant spray of my own whereupon a string quartet plays "for he's a jolly good fellow" in an upbeat fashion.
A waiter then brings us each a glass of champagne and a platter of rare cheeses and I make a deliberately corny toast "to love, and where the night may take us" and playfully tink my glass to hers which is the signal for the quartet to play Saint-Saens "The Swan" and we make beautiful and tender love with the quartet matching the style of our lovemaking before letting a funk band take over as our sex gets gradually raunchier (Think the pool scene in Showgirls only not stupid.) and we collapse into each others arms and stare at the stars, both feeling content with our place in the universe.
I am not insane. I realize that if I were to verbalize such a scenario to a server without any provocation after bringing me a plate of Chicken Wings I would no doubt witness the blood drain from her face and she would quickly make up an excuse to leave and demand the manager switch servers with me and he would likely serve me himself after getting the gist of what I said and request that I leave immediately when I finish and the rest of the girls would go out of their way to avoid passing my table which has been placed against a wall in the far corner of the restaurant, and I can see the girls whispering and pointing at me and I feel like an absolute creep and I drive home and call up a phone sex line and have the girl tell me how cool and handsome and sexy I am for a half hour before drinking myself to into a tearful oblivion.
I realize that this is their job, and part of their job is to playfully flirt with the customer, anyone who takes it more seriously than they should is a boorish simpleton. The key is to flirt back, try to make her genuinely laugh and treat her with respect. If she really is attracted she will give off the right signals and after leaving a more than healthy tip I will shyly yet confidently inquire as to whether she might want to meet again under different environs. If she answers in the affirmative then and only then shall I gradually introduce her to my universe of erotic and unusual delights.
spoiled because well, it's bozarking.
What the hell is this from?
I feel a little sick after reading that.
I thought you went to university to read stuff like that.
To me the greatest appeal of Jedi powers has always been the endless sexual possibilities they open up.
It would be pretty awesome to be an ancient Jedi healing master so I could use my lightsaber to safely amputate and cauterize my gf's limbs and have all kinds of crazy amputee sex with her (it's really annoying how "amputee porn" is something of a porn cliche yet it is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to find online and when you do it's either greasy poorly lit 70's porn or on a specialty site that costs 50 bucks a month). Give her some scuba gear and mount her so that it's like I'm a mouse riding a cork on the ocean, grab an oar and wear a captains hat and pretend I am an intrepid explorer.
Of course if the coast guard apprehended me and asked me what the fuck I was doing I could do the whole Jedi mind trick "move along, this is completely normal consensual activity" thing and they'd salute and send me on my merry way.
When we reached shore I could pogo stick home and then I'd reattach her limbs and she'd cuddle up on the sofa with me as we watched the directors cut of Blade Runner.
My good lady I must express my sincerest condolences for your treatmant at the hands of such brutish Phillistines. While my sexual proclivities are well known I would never be so gauche as to blindly verbally ejaculate my erotic desires to every female who enters my field of vision. One must build up a repore first. Hypnotize her with your charm and class until she holds you in such high regard so that any "unusual request" you make no matter how deviant becomes acceptable.
River sex is a beautiful thing, as is taking a helicopter to the top of an isolated mountain in the Himalayas, stripping a petite and willing lady nude covering her in various exotic oils and giving her an icewater enema until she appears 12 months pregnant, plugging the ineveitable torrent of water with my protrusion, strapping her bodice to the outside of my snowsuit and skiblading down, making sure to hit the well placed jumps that send us sailing through the air using my skills as an acrobat to make somersaults and twists of multiple revolutions causing her swollen shivering belly to undulate and flip up to her nose and down past her feet like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon (Which are filmed by my pilot for my later amusement and that of the private mens club of which I am chair) before detatching my skis and sledding the last half mile on her stomach as she lets out an ear splitting "gheeeee!!!" (which is no doubt an expression of an orgasm of such transcendant force that it gives injustice to our typical terms for sexual pleasure.) making sure to skillfully switch positions so that she is on her back and I can stare intently at her face (the expressions they make are of endless variety with the only consistency being their intensity) using her pigtails to steer a course to the last jump which sends us splashing into an artificial hot spring whereupon I remove myself and her stomach shrinks back to normal size as the water sprays in a magnificent arch from her floating body like a kind of Caligulaic fountain and I let out a triumphant spray of my own whereupon a string quartet plays "for he's a jolly good fellow" in an upbeat fashion.
A waiter then brings us each a glass of champagne and a platter of rare cheeses and I make a deliberately corny toast "to love, and where the night may take us" and playfully tink my glass to hers which is the signal for the quartet to play Saint-Saens "The Swan" and we make beautiful and tender love with the quartet matching the style of our lovemaking before letting a funk band take over as our sex gets gradually raunchier (Think the pool scene in Showgirls only not stupid.) and we collapse into each others arms and stare at the stars, both feeling content with our place in the universe.
I am not insane. I realize that if I were to verbalize such a scenario to a server without any provocation after bringing me a plate of Chicken Wings I would no doubt witness the blood drain from her face and she would quickly make up an excuse to leave and demand the manager switch servers with me and he would likely serve me himself after getting the gist of what I said and request that I leave immediately when I finish and the rest of the girls would go out of their way to avoid passing my table which has been placed against a wall in the far corner of the restaurant, and I can see the girls whispering and pointing at me and I feel like an absolute creep and I drive home and call up a phone sex line and have the girl tell me how cool and handsome and sexy I am for a half hour before drinking myself to into a tearful oblivion.
I realize that this is their job, and part of their job is to playfully flirt with the customer, anyone who takes it more seriously than they should is a boorish simpleton. The key is to flirt back, try to make her genuinely laugh and treat her with respect. If she really is attracted she will give off the right signals and after leaving a more than healthy tip I will shyly yet confidently inquire as to whether she might want to meet again under different environs. If she answers in the affirmative then and only then shall I gradually introduce her to my universe of erotic and unusual delights.
As a kid I used to build snowmen deep in the woods, tape a picture of Kelly Kapowskis face to their heads and fuck them. Anyone who stumbled across them must have thought they'd found a serial killers shrine.
To me the greatest appeal of Jedi powers has always been the endless sexual possibilities they open up.
It would be pretty awesome to be an ancient Jedi healing master so I could use my lightsaber to safely amputate and cauterize my gf's limbs and have all kinds of crazy amputee sex with her (it's really annoying how "amputee porn" is something of a porn cliche yet it is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to find online and when you do it's either greasy poorly lit 70's porn or on a specialty site that costs 50 bucks a month). Give her some scuba gear and mount her so that it's like I'm a mouse riding a cork on the ocean, grab an oar and wear a captains hat and pretend I am an intrepid explorer.
Of course if the coast guard apprehended me and asked me what the fuck I was doing I could do the whole Jedi mind trick "move along, this is completely normal consensual activity" thing and they'd salute and send me on my merry way.
When we reached shore I could pogo stick home and then I'd reattach her limbs and she'd cuddle up on the sofa with me as we watched the directors cut of Blade Runner.
My good lady I must express my sincerest condolences for your treatmant at the hands of such brutish Phillistines. While my sexual proclivities are well known I would never be so gauche as to blindly verbally ejaculate my erotic desires to every female who enters my field of vision. One must build up a repore first. Hypnotize her with your charm and class until she holds you in such high regard so that any "unusual request" you make no matter how deviant becomes acceptable.
River sex is a beautiful thing, as is taking a helicopter to the top of an isolated mountain in the Himalayas, stripping a petite and willing lady nude covering her in various exotic oils and giving her an icewater enema until she appears 12 months pregnant, plugging the ineveitable torrent of water with my protrusion, strapping her bodice to the outside of my snowsuit and skiblading down, making sure to hit the well placed jumps that send us sailing through the air using my skills as an acrobat to make somersaults and twists of multiple revolutions causing her swollen shivering belly to undulate and flip up to her nose and down past her feet like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon (Which are filmed by my pilot for my later amusement and that of the private mens club of which I am chair) before detatching my skis and sledding the last half mile on her stomach as she lets out an ear splitting "gheeeee!!!" (which is no doubt an expression of an orgasm of such transcendant force that it gives injustice to our typical terms for sexual pleasure.) making sure to skillfully switch positions so that she is on her back and I can stare intently at her face (the expressions they make are of endless variety with the only consistency being their intensity) using her pigtails to steer a course to the last jump which sends us splashing into an artificial hot spring whereupon I remove myself and her stomach shrinks back to normal size as the water sprays in a magnificent arch from her floating body like a kind of Caligulaic fountain and I let out a triumphant spray of my own whereupon a string quartet plays "for he's a jolly good fellow" in an upbeat fashion.
A waiter then brings us each a glass of champagne and a platter of rare cheeses and I make a deliberately corny toast "to love, and where the night may take us" and playfully tink my glass to hers which is the signal for the quartet to play Saint-Saens "The Swan" and we make beautiful and tender love with the quartet matching the style of our lovemaking before letting a funk band take over as our sex gets gradually raunchier (Think the pool scene in Showgirls only not stupid.) and we collapse into each others arms and stare at the stars, both feeling content with our place in the universe.
I am not insane. I realize that if I were to verbalize such a scenario to a server without any provocation after bringing me a plate of Chicken Wings I would no doubt witness the blood drain from her face and she would quickly make up an excuse to leave and demand the manager switch servers with me and he would likely serve me himself after getting the gist of what I said and request that I leave immediately when I finish and the rest of the girls would go out of their way to avoid passing my table which has been placed against a wall in the far corner of the restaurant, and I can see the girls whispering and pointing at me and I feel like an absolute creep and I drive home and call up a phone sex line and have the girl tell me how cool and handsome and sexy I am for a half hour before drinking myself to into a tearful oblivion.
I realize that this is their job, and part of their job is to playfully flirt with the customer, anyone who takes it more seriously than they should is a boorish simpleton. The key is to flirt back, try to make her genuinely laugh and treat her with respect. If she really is attracted she will give off the right signals and after leaving a more than healthy tip I will shyly yet confidently inquire as to whether she might want to meet again under different environs. If she answers in the affirmative then and only then shall I gradually introduce her to my universe of erotic and unusual delights.
As a kid I used to build snowmen deep in the woods, tape a picture of Kelly Kapowskis face to their heads and fuck them. Anyone who stumbled across them must have thought they'd found a serial killers shrine.
As a kid I used to build snowmen deep in the woods, tape a picture of Kelly Kapowskis face to their heads and fuck them. Anyone who stumbled across them must have thought they'd found a serial killers shrine.
I endorse that.
Reminds me of the time I was nostril fucking my guitar teacher and forgot to pull out. "Aghhhhhhh! I can feel it on my brain!" She screamed while doing a hilarious autistic hand flapping thing. Had to practice extra scales that week.
BobCescaIs a girlBirmingham, UKRegistered Userregular
edited December 2009
predictive text is my savior. Fuck pressing keys four million time to get a certain letter and then pressing too many times and having to scroll through them all again.
And "text speak" is a pile of wank. I feel like texting back "Can I have a vowel please, Carol"
BobCesca on
0
ThomamelasOnly one man can kill this many Russians. Bring his guitar to me! Registered Userregular
predictive text is my savior. Fuck pressing keys four million time to get a certain letter and then pressing too many times and having to scroll through them all again.
And "text speak" is a pile of wank. I feel like texting back "Can I have a vowel please, Carol"
Ever since I got this phone, I will not own another phone without a full keyboard. As much as I hate this phone now, keyboards are essential to texting and being quick about it. Also keeps you from texting and driving.
You can avoid these problems by getting a positive reputation as the "office porn guy". The key is to start out looking at stuff like red carpet pics of Salma Hayek and very gradually move on to bikini girls, and eventually tasteful black and white nudes and respond casually and intelligently when people notice your desktop. "Ah yes, this woman was photographed by Yugheni Malzokof, one of the original masters of erotic fashion photography".
Be sure to start dressing like a character in a glamorous 1950s European art film and have impressive leatherbound books scattered around your desk with titles like "Appreciating the Female Form" etc.
If you do it right after 3 months you will be able to smoke Cuban Cigars and watch Bangbros vids with the volume up full blast and coworkers that walk by will smile and think "classy guy."
Thanks for ruining my productivity today, Matt. I can't stop reading his posts.
Posts
I read the first line and thought, Well that's all I need to see.
Give me a minute to pull up some slash fiction between your favorite child hood characters. They'll finish the job.
You read all of it? You are a much stronger person then I am then.
where's it from?
no i stopped in the second section. but i read all of the first part and
what the fuck did i just read
i kno rite?
then i just close it. never learn more. just fucking close the window and give up.
Me too.
I got through most of the first part and just had no further desire to continue.
I want to strike him.
You should hit him with your car.
Twice.
My mam refuses to learn how to use predictive text. It annoys the hell out of me.
lol. my dad does this too.
"make it so it doesn't spell the words for me"
what why
http://www.reddit.com/user/bozarking
And he just posted another one!
speaking of Kelly.
http://vimeo.com/5758439
o hi i did ur mom an she wz laffin at u lol
lol u mad
I hate predictive text as well, but I spend the extra 3 seconds to type out the damn word.
I endorse that.
Hahahaha.
u bich i gon kill u
its ducking awesome.
And "text speak" is a pile of wank. I feel like texting back "Can I have a vowel please, Carol"
I have a full keyboard for that reason.
I mostly hate predictive text in tandem with shaky touch screens.
lol
so late.
i have tons of skinny jeans back in my flibbity flobbity floo
o_0
Was all the flash-dance aerobics stuff pulled from an actual episode?
What the fuck
Urban kids now dress like I did back in 2000. Which is really funny.
We have a bunch of urban thugs decked out like they were at a Death Cab show in Boston ten years ago: skinny jeans, gauged ears, swallow tattoos.
Fucking hilarious.
That's unpossible!
lol i wz j/k abot ur mom hu iz ugly!!!!!1!
Thanks for ruining my productivity today, Matt. I can't stop reading his posts.