Oh for christ's sake, hasn't she read Sophocles? Every boy wants to cornhole his mom, and every mom ought to relax and accept the filial recursion. Next step? If son hasn't killed dad yet, he should hop to it (on swollen feet, of course...haha...a little Greek humour for those who et). Once dad's out of the picture, mom and son should cornhole constantly, till mom's sphincter is as big around as Taint's the day after Sloppy Spooge-Hole Sunday. Once the neighbours figure out what's happening next door in the master bedroom, mom hangs herself, son scratches his own eyes out, and everyone goes home wishing they'd gone to see an Aeschylus comedy. And that, my friends, is yet another reason why they call it Greek.

Last edited by WilberCuntLicker (2008-07-14 00:42:33)

Taint wrote:

I rarely have time for corn holing on Sunday, Wilber, but Saturdays are often good. Should I plan on seeing you next week then?

Great! I've been morbidly constipated lately. Perhaps your 7"-long 6"-around mushroom-headed bloodbat can induce my gravid bowels to labour over stool. Should we invite pENIx? I hear he likes to lie beneath the engine for to catch the drippings on his tongue.

This is a hat, just can't find the link.

Woody wrote:

I was so shocked I pretended to be asleep

Considerate. Wish the stupid bitches I was "involved with" did the same. If they had, I might now have room in the basement for my ten-speed.

Fascinating. Your second sentence requests the subjunctive mode, and the tense of your third sentence is out of grammatical sync with the second. Not a big deal, really, except that you've said nothing, badly, which is rather disappointing.

Woody wrote:

Edited. You're right. That does sound better.

My mom's pushing 80, and in need of some fun. A word of advice - if you're planning to jam your stool-stick in the nutella-hole watch out for the inevitable mudslide. Her sphincter doesn't snap shut like it used to.

Woody wrote:

WilberCuntLicker wrote:

Woody wrote:

Edited. You're right. That does sound better.

My mom's pushing 80, and in need of some fun. A word of advice - if you're planning to jam your stool-stick in the nutella-hole watch out for the inevitable mudslide. Her sphincter doesn't snap shut like it used to.

No shit. Literally, no shit. Nothing but air in there. Your advice, even at this late a juncture, would not have been helpful.

Would have been nice, though, to know about the "tore-up" state of affairs down there. Even a fist was met with little resistance. Honestly, how many helmet-enthusiasts did she invite into her dirty tunnel? I know she was a woman of charity, but this seemed a bit like overkill.

The advantage? Once I finished and fapped into her gaping crud-crevasse, I could admire the handiwork without any problem. The entry allows in such a high amount of light, the colon-plastering could be enjoyed, even from afar.

She's a peach.

If you'd read my initial post in this thread, you'd know that you were following a piste once plowed by my own stout cudgel. There's no elastic left after that. In fact, Modern Proctology magazine once called me: "The greatest friend Dow-Corning's colostomy bag division has ever known." By the way, I just got off the phone with my mom. She says you're a nice guy, but even your fist lacks sufficient dimension. Apparently your woody is "the size of a mildly engorged clitoris." Also, she'd really like you to brush your teeth after you've finished sucking the turds out of her sump-hole.

Woody wrote:

And a bid you a fond farewell, my wide-mouthed ass.

You have a wide-mouthed ass? Doesn't surprise me.
Sadly, the taunts about child-leashes and wheelchairs were not in keeping with what was turning into moderately amusing badinage. There's no percentage in flailing, Woody. If you need a breather, walk away from the keyboard for a while. I'm not asking for 12 rounds, but six would be cool. Decent sparring partners are f & f-between.