That’s right. This guy. Pound it. Pound it, scro. Pound that shit. Come on, you gotta pound it and explode. Boom! Haha. Ah, my dick. I can barely walk. Coming down the stairs was like fucking torture. Haha, fucking torture. Ow.
I’m sure you faggots want all the gory details, right? Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell. SIKE! I don’t see any gentlemen around here, do you?
You know that chick that I’ve been Facebook stalking for like a month now? The ginger from St. Mary’s? Yeah, that’s right. I threw my shit up in a firecrotch. Laid a pole in that flaming snatch. I can’t be too sure, but I may have even taken her V-card.
It went down like this. First, she slobbed on my knob for like, must’ve been about an hour. Then I fingerblasted her until she was ready to burst. Tried to bust out the shocker, but she wasn’t having it. I’m thinking, “What a prude," right? Wrong, motherfuckers.
I put on some love-making music. No, fuck Barry Manilow. We got it on to the sweet melodies of O.A.R. It was a crazy game of poke her, hahaha! No, dude, I thought of that just now. Off the top of the dome, I swear.
She was DTF, let me tell you. This trick didn’t even want to climb the ladder up to my bed. So we started banging on the carpet…rug burn like whoah. Yadda, yadda, yadda…fast forward to about four hours later, when I nutted all over her freckly face.
Basically, I’m Ron Jeremy, sans the mullet. Yeah, pound it. Pound it and explode. BOOM!
Hey, if you guys are ordering Jimmy John’s, I want a number four. I’m gonna go put some Neosporin on my shaft.
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