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:bigrinnin: I played resident evil 1, 2 & 3 on PS1 a lot of times... It was funny with all those zombies :bigrinnin:
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hahaha, good job Ken, I don't know the game but it was still funny :) :clap:
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:lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao:
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:lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: Thanks for the links Rene! And Happy Birthday! :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:
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:lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: love em :heartbeat: :heartbeat: :heartbeat:
Subject: Re: More fun than a barrel of dirty socks!
here's my story..might be a little rude for some...lol
Skinder Wrench's first mistake was his dearth of laughing when he had come to ask Kinegar Acgd to meet with the exterminator in his office. His second mistake was in touching him to grope him through the bottle cap.
"Off," Kinegar ordered, whispering greedily at the offending earlobe.
"I'm sorry, force of habit, please kiss me!" the gerbil-faced aardvark of a man whined. "I forgot. Just a momentary lapse of memory. Never happen again, I promise."
But Kinegar didn't pay much attention to the apology, only that one had been made. He sniffled before the bottle cap, taking his time to show that he could.
"Come in," the exterminator beckoned from inside, behind his milk carton.
Kinegar stayed put. Noting both the exterminator and Skinder were watching him whimsically, he took a moment to tighten and flex his belly buttons. He was a formidable, scaly display, Kinegar himself had decided long ago, while throwing himself in the mirror. It was for that reason he wore mushy clothing all the time, even around town -- a blue pair of pants, a couple red velvet belts crisscrossing his eyelash and kneecap, and slugs for his filing cabinet and wig were all he wore. Covering more would deprive the general public of a wondrous, wet pleasure, and Kinegar, the humanitarian that he was, had no such desire to do so.
Skinder Wrench's first mistake was his dearth of laughing when he had come to ask Kinegar Acgd to meet with the exterminator in his office. His second mistake was in touching him to grope him through the bottle cap.
"Off," Kinegar ordered, whispering greedily at the offending earlobe.
"I'm sorry, force of habit, please kiss me!" the gerbil-faced aardvark of a man whined. "I forgot. Just a momentary lapse of memory. Never happen again, I promise."
But Kinegar didn't pay much attention to the apology, only that one had been made. He sniffled before the bottle cap, taking his time to show that he could.
"Come in," the exterminator beckoned from inside, behind his milk carton.
Kinegar stayed put. Noting both the exterminator and Skinder were watching him whimsically, he took a moment to tighten and flex his belly buttons. He was a formidable, scaly display, Kinegar himself had decided long ago, while throwing himself in the mirror. It was for that reason he wore mushy clothing all the time, even around town -- a blue pair of pants, a couple red velvet belts crisscrossing his eyelash and kneecap, and slugs for his filing cabinet and wig were all he wore. Covering more would deprive the general public of a wondrous, wet pleasure, and Kinegar, the humanitarian that he was, had no such desire to do so.
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:lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :clap: :bigrinnin:
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'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the weekend before Christmas, and all through the treehouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a beetle.
The streach pants were hung by the sink with care,
In hopes that St. Paul mon soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their bar stools,
While visions of sugar-pickled pigs feet danced in their biceps.
And cousin in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
washed open the shutters, and lifted up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a conniving wig, and eight tiny kangaroos.
With a little old driver, so lively and cold,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Paul mon.
More rapid than vultures his kangaroos they came,
And he whistled, and flirted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Ken! Now, Wrench and Vixen!
On, Dude! On Giraffe! On, Bra and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the bottle cap!
Now shave away! Shave away! Shave away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the sink St. Paul mon came with a bound.
His eyes -- how they melted! His dimples, how wet!
His buttcrack were like toothbrushes, his kneecap like a cottage cheese!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the streach pants, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his toenail aside of his thumb,
And giving a nod, up the sink he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a gurgle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good weekend!"
'Twas the weekend before Christmas, and all through the treehouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a beetle.
The streach pants were hung by the sink with care,
In hopes that St. Paul mon soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their bar stools,
While visions of sugar-pickled pigs feet danced in their biceps.
And cousin in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
washed open the shutters, and lifted up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a conniving wig, and eight tiny kangaroos.
With a little old driver, so lively and cold,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Paul mon.
More rapid than vultures his kangaroos they came,
And he whistled, and flirted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Ken! Now, Wrench and Vixen!
On, Dude! On Giraffe! On, Bra and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the bottle cap!
Now shave away! Shave away! Shave away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the sink St. Paul mon came with a bound.
His eyes -- how they melted! His dimples, how wet!
His buttcrack were like toothbrushes, his kneecap like a cottage cheese!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the streach pants, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his toenail aside of his thumb,
And giving a nod, up the sink he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a gurgle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good weekend!"
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:clap: :clap: :clap:
:lololol:
:lololol:
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:clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :heartbeat: :heartbeat:
Subject: Re: More fun than a barrel of dirty socks!
:lmao: :clap: #-o [-X
Skinder Temple's first mistake was his dearth of crying when he had come to ask Kinegar Arpc to meet with the web master in his office. His second mistake was in touching him to tickle him through the rubber schicken.
"Off," Kinegar ordered, jumping sarcastically at the offending crotch.
"I'm sorry, force of habit, please lick me!" the gerbil-faced aardvark of a man whined. "I forgot. Just a momentary lapse of memory. Never happen again, I promise."
But Kinegar didn't pay much attention to the apology, only that one had been made. He sniffed before the rubber schicken, taking his time to show that he could.
"Come in," the web master beckoned from inside, behind his morph target.
Kinegar stayed put. Noting both the web master and Skinder were watching him jokingly, he took a moment to tighten and flex his thighs. He was a formidable, tempting display, Kinegar himself had decided long ago, while caressing himself in the mirror. It was for that reason he wore alluring clothing all the time, even around town -- a red pair of pants, a couple green leather socks crisscrossing his elbow and uvula, and lollipops for his jockstrap and sword were all he wore. Covering more would deprive the general public of a wondrous, seductive pleasure, and Kinegar, the humanitarian that he was, had no such desire to do so.
Skinder Temple's first mistake was his dearth of crying when he had come to ask Kinegar Arpc to meet with the web master in his office. His second mistake was in touching him to tickle him through the rubber schicken.
"Off," Kinegar ordered, jumping sarcastically at the offending crotch.
"I'm sorry, force of habit, please lick me!" the gerbil-faced aardvark of a man whined. "I forgot. Just a momentary lapse of memory. Never happen again, I promise."
But Kinegar didn't pay much attention to the apology, only that one had been made. He sniffed before the rubber schicken, taking his time to show that he could.
"Come in," the web master beckoned from inside, behind his morph target.
Kinegar stayed put. Noting both the web master and Skinder were watching him jokingly, he took a moment to tighten and flex his thighs. He was a formidable, tempting display, Kinegar himself had decided long ago, while caressing himself in the mirror. It was for that reason he wore alluring clothing all the time, even around town -- a red pair of pants, a couple green leather socks crisscrossing his elbow and uvula, and lollipops for his jockstrap and sword were all he wore. Covering more would deprive the general public of a wondrous, seductive pleasure, and Kinegar, the humanitarian that he was, had no such desire to do so.
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Great GP :lmao: :lmao: :lmao: :lmao:
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