“Thong on Fire” by Noire.
She lay on the bed beneath him, filling her lungs slowly beneath his weight. She liked the feel of every part of him–his beard scratching at the smoothness of her cheek, his tongue, hot and wet, playing along her earlobe, his fingertips tightening the slightest bit around her wrists.
“Oh, D’Clarkeon,” she whimpered in his ear, squirming.
“You like that, Sh’Quaydra’Nique?” he cooed back. By the way she was beginning to squirm, he already knew the answer. …Or so he thought.
“Yes, baby, it feels good, but something is wrong,” she said, throwing a hard arch into her back and pulling violently at the thong she wore.
“Yeah, you can’t wait to get outta them draws, can you girl?” he said.
“NO!” she screamed, throwing him off of her. “It burns! It BURNS!! Lord Jesus in heaven it feels like I’m bout to birth Beelzebub!!!”
It was then that she knew she had to tell him about the gonorrhea.
(h/t to britters_43!)
(note: actual title of an actual book, but not the actual text of said book. but it probably should be.)
rent and watch “boss nigger” starring fred williamson. take a shot everytime you hear the n-word.
zomg i m alrardy fuckd up an its onyl teh traylor~!!1
look. look at it. it looks so soft, doesn’t it? it’s so billowy. so velvety. i want to roll around in field of it. i want to stuff my pillows with it. i want to lay on my back and look up at clouds of it and talk about how that one looks like a teddy bear and that one looks like a hot air balloon and that one looks like barry white’s perm.
this post is sponsored by let’s jam! and a super-tight du-rag.
mom: “please hurry up and take the picture. the valium is wearing off.”
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my 16-year-old niece called me a gidiot once. my instinct was to get mad, but first i had to ask her wtf a ‘gidiot’ was to see if making fun of her retarded vernacular would be a more appropriate response. she said that a gidiot was a ‘goofy idiot,’ and… i kinda liked it.
that was the first word that came to my head and out of my mouth when i saw this dude. he got a huge pair of dirty hipster douchebag glasses tattooed to his face. to his face. tattooed there. forever.
you’ve got your very own star of david now, guy. or, more appropriately, star of doucheness. good luck living with that for the rest of your life!
wait til the other members of Suicide Pact see this picture. that bolo tie is sure to get Chad (stage name: Lord Bloodfower) kicked out of the band for sure.