T1B

Some short Russian looking fellow with frosted blonde tips was roughing up trev in the parking lot behind the pub, but I wasn't having any of that. I immediately rushed to her aid like I would a puppy dog getting abused... and I knocked that bastard out cold. I continued to pummel his face until it looked like m2's asshole after a fortnight with Marshawn Lynch.

I took trev home and laid her gently down on my bed. I cuffed my hand and curled her hair behind her ear, and gently kissed her on the face and told her how beautiful she was. That was when I...

... realized Marshawn Lynch was a victim after sodomizing m2's asshole. You gave trev a bottle of cheap Russian vodka to keep her in her continual stupor as she used her exhaled breathes to inflate a pool toy to put in Mikey's acidic swimming pool.

Atomic Punk wrote:... realized Marshawn Lynch was a victim after sodomizing m2's asshole. You gave trev a bottle of cheap Russian vodka to keep her in her continual stupor as she used her exhaled breathes to inflate a pool toy to put in Mikey's acidic swimming pool.

Epic fail, manual tranny.

How'd the crow taste ?


viewtopic.php?f=2&t=45422



Too funny

Screw_Michigan wrote:

Atomic Punk wrote:... realized Marshawn Lynch was a victim after sodomizing m2's asshole. You gave trev a bottle of cheap Russian vodka to keep her in her continual stupor as she used her exhaled breathes to inflate a pool toy to put in Mikey's acidic swimming pool.

Epic fail, manual tranny.

Bwhahahaha

Leave it to Jizz_Mopagain and the sanfranfaggot to fuck up yet another thread.

MgoBlue-LightSpecial wrote:Some short Russian looking fellow with frosted blonde tips was roughing up trev in the parking lot behind the pub, but I wasn't having any of that. I immediately rushed to her aid like I would a puppy dog getting abused... and I knocked that bastard out cold. I continued to pummel his face until it looked like m2's asshole after a fortnight with Marshawn Lynch.

I took trev home and laid her gently down on my bed. I cuffed my hand and curled her hair behind her ear, and gently kissed her on the face and told her how beautiful she was. That was when I...

Woke up in a puddle of your own urine.

MgoBlue-LightSpecial wrote:Some short Russian looking fellow with frosted blonde tips was roughing up trev in the parking lot behind the pub,

FUCK YOU, GUY FIERI!!! I WILL KILL YOU, FOR THAT!!! I WILL STRANGLE YOU WITH ONE OF YOUR SHITTY BOWLING SHIRTS!!

What in the hey ho is going on here???

trev wrote:What in the hey ho is going on here???

You're the star of a new reality series! So keep it real...

It's a lot of pressure, but somebody has to do it.

trev wrote:What in the hey ho is going on here???

Patience, my dear...

trev wrote:It's a lot of pressure, but somebody has to do it.

you hussy, you fell for it... IT'S A TRAP!!!

you sick fuck, I don't own a van and I'm not sharing trev with anybody, see?

B_Smack and Marty can grovel all they want.

I'd exit at Brooklyn Ave. - closer to Arthur Bryants and Gates.

...and straight to nearest lanes. A bright neon sign was lit up, "Gladstone Bowl" it flickered. Wags pulled the van off the I-70, bald tires protesting and smoking and skidded to an abrupt stop. Wags grunted to the lubricated woman, "Gonna score me some quick cache, take out of couple rubes on the alleys." he boasted. "My hero" she sighed, crumpling to a sloppy pile at his feet, dropping the mom jeans. A bottle of Jim Beam clinked on the asphalt.

As Wags strode purposefully into the bowling alley, a bright orange, blue and white light flashed and zig-zagged across the sky. "Holy Houses of Almighty Zep..." he stammered. The light stopped suddenly, did a loop and zipped straight toward the gape-mouthed War Wagon. The silver fillings on his stained teeth started buzzing and the light...

The pasty gangstah was shiny with clammy sweat. "Who..?" he whispered.

"I said it's a drone fucking drone. Are you stupid?" WW just stared blankly. "Hello, idoit, a fucking Hammacher Schlemmer drone, a hundred thirty or so."

WW continued to stare blankly. He blinked and wiped at his coke bottom specs. "MVS? Is that you? Why is the drone orange, blue and white?"

MVS flashed a card at him, thunking him in the head with it.

He pushed the card in his mug.

"Ish that a shwishblade opening, or are you jush happy to see me?" Trev slurred, a gleam shining in her good eye.

"Time to get all MidVogel on your ass..." he hissed like a snake.

"Heathen!" a voice echoed in the night air. "You should at least wear some protection." poptart smirked, coming out the dark.

Trev rolled her head toward poptart and a strange expression crossed her face. She squinted and licked her ashen lips.

"Now ish a party!" she grinned.

Something popped and everyone stared...

some busy bodies have had one too many slices of fruitcake.

Barf, break out the bag, we're going to need it.

Screwy, break out the mop, that bag isn't big enough.

Screwy replied...

"That asswipe Jay and his google maps both suck balck cock and swallow" Screwey fumed. "I drove all the fucking way from The District on expired tags and Gladstone Bowl isn't anywhere close to I-70!"

Screwy made it all the way to the Kansas turnpike and halfway to Topeka before realizing he wasn't in Missouri anymore. He tried to turn around and head back the other way but got stopped at the toll booth near Lawrence. He didn't have the $1.75 toll and was almost out of gas anyway.

He abandoned his vehicle there and hiked into Jaysquawk land intent on showing those bitches just what tha fuck what was up...

As Screwy wandered around in listless circles, humming tunelessly something about "fuck was up", bunching his shoulders in a pout, Wags was still horking up stringy strips of slimy burnt ends and froths of 'Nattie juice.

From behind the van, smoke was billowing into the air, the noxious exhaust hanging about like a British fog. The door opened on the van, and Wags proclaimed, spraying through puke-puffy lips, "You're more like Chloë Grace Moretz gone old and mommish, than Sissy Spacek." Trev gazed at Wags through blood-spattered eyelashes, one of which was drooping like a red and black wet moth. "What's next you wild lil' Missouri Tiger!" she purred.

The purr actually was emanating from the split badger, wetly winking between her pale thighs. An unsavory scent filled the air.

poptart strode from the bowling alley doors, looking like a haggard Billy Bob Thornton. The long black flaps of this duster kicked up in the breeze and smoke. A blinding light pulsed behind him and an angelic chorus began to sing...

(F'ing rack!)

trev, before we continue any further, I need to know on a scale of 1-10 how much does this turn you on? Your answer is crucial.




https://mtc.cdn.vine.co/r/videos/D3B266 ... XOZYJjx7fi

To be honest, I'd rather have a head shot of him.

But, yeah, as a non Dallas fan, this bothers me a tad.

Looks like he has found a way around the gastric surgery too.