KinkyJohn posted:

Canned Panda posted:

To be the cat, you've gotta beat the cat

Jebediah posted:

What the gently caress

RoryBlank posted:

Oh there's so many of them. They keep coming.
The friends.
Bless their little hearts. All of them.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrbxWOMpwfs

Wee Stubby Nublet posted:

I heard on the grapevine, in secret gossip circles, that Cena has hit a trough of stormy waters while on this pussy-face-sitting gig, and he's apparently not handling the troubled waters wetness particularly well at all. There's talk that the pussies may have given him a swift puss-in-boots kick to the kerb - but I can't verify that info as true at this stage... it's all kinda unfolding as I post this, and I'm not really sure which snippets filtering through are accurate or not.

In light of the pussies perhaps/apparently/allegedly having baulked at having him sit on their faces anymore, this arvo when I heard about it I wanted to write a parody song about him and coin the term - Cena the Has-been... but I don't actually know him or his nationality, and I can't allow my fresh hip coined phrase for him to rhyme as it could be a bit racially charged - not my intention at all - and I'd rather stay well away from all that mess, and so, unfortunately, me pulling a Weird Al Yankovich Grammy Award winning hit out of my hat isn't gonna happen on this day. *sighs, sits back to wait for the right day*

Anyway, below is the goss-datum my sources on the case have sourced thus far (which may or may not be accurate!)...

December Octopodes posted:

it's like a portal mixing Mr. T ate my balls with John Deez

KinkyJohn posted:

Ratjaculation posted:

Edit: misread title

Wee Stubby Nublet posted:

I heard on the grapevine, in secret gossip circles, that Cena has hit a trough of stormy waters while on this pussy-face-sitting gig, and he's apparently not handling the troubled waters wetness particularly well at all. There's talk that the pussies may have given him a swift puss-in-boots kick to the kerb - but I can't verify that info as true at this stage... it's all kinda unfolding as I post this, and I'm not really sure which snippets filtering through are accurate or not.

In light of the pussies perhaps/apparently/allegedly having baulked at having him sit on their faces anymore, this arvo when I heard about it I wanted to write a parody song about him and coin the term - Cena the Has-been... but I don't actually know him or his nationality, and I can't allow my fresh hip coined phrase for him to rhyme as it could be a bit racially charged - not my intention at all - and I'd rather stay well away from all that mess, and so, unfortunately, me pulling a Weird Al Yankovich Grammy Award winning hit out of my hat isn't gonna happen on this day. *sighs, sits back to wait for the right day*

Anyway, below is the goss-datum my sources on the case have sourced thus far (which may or may not be accurate!)...

KinkyJohn posted:

SirEvelynTremble posted:

RoryBlank posted:

Ahh.

Ahh.

The friends keep coming.

MiracleWhale posted:

<calls animal control>

RoryBlank posted:

What has our beautiful boy gotten himself into now?



Oh, our dear boy! Our beautiful boy. He is on an adventure. And while it might seem hard now, no doubt, it will be greatly rewarding.

djwetmouse posted:

December Octopodes posted:

it's like a portal mixing Mr. T ate my balls with John Deez

RoryBlank posted:

Where is he going?

You can choose the path.

Wee Stubby Nublet posted:

Our choice?! Cool! That's always fun. You got a minute? I got a spare one and can waffle on like a champ!



Which path to choose though, one's imagination presents trails leading in every which way direction. Hmmm.. wanna get led up the garden path, perhaps? Don't be scared - I'll be there right with you every step of the way and even hold your hand if helps calm your nerves.

You take my hand... and I'll take your innocence.


This is concerning John Cena though! He deserves more than any fanciful tale one could make up on a flight of whimsy. Dear John deserves only honesty. So, I'll be truthful here with you now, and explain what's actually happened with him, what he's gone through. But you mustn't repeat this to a soul. You're sworn to secrecy on this. You understand what I'm saying? You must not tell anyone, you can't now - you have been sworn to secrecy. I have sworn you in. So you can't tell anyone about this... 'coz that's just how secrets work. You're sworn to secrecy here now, you're sworn in!

Alrighty then. Cenapussy's real tale begins back when he was still in his li'l boat, out in a vast expanse of troubled waters, with only his unquiet mind for company. John's troubled thoughts rocked back and forth, in time with the ocean's swell, with a phrase repeating itself over and over again in his head.

He wasn't quite sure what it could mean - why he couldn't shake the sentence, why it kept returning, insistant, to command his attention. Cena was already terribly glum that the well had dried up on his pussy face-sitting hobby, his very favourite recreational activity, and the phrase taunting him, haunting him, incessantly only served to deepen the poor man's gloom. He wondered if he'd perhaps dismissed the words too quickly; that maybe they meant more to him than was first apparent. He had no choice but to mull it over, the phrase would not leave his head, but any answer's about it were were elusive to big John.

Three days at sea, alone with the phrase, was quite enough for Cena. He knew he had to work out what the phrase really meant, to him personally, and he knew he couldn't do it alone. He decided to enlist the help of his buddies to help solve the mystery and hopefully garner some enlightenment. Afterall, that's what friends are for, right? He figured since he had once upon a time brought in many a silky feline to his pussy face-sitting circles, sharing his bounty so his pals could get a taste for pussy-sitting high-life too, then they'd be more than happy to help him figure out why his network of pussies had dried up. And more than happy to, they were.

Only a few days after returning from his lonely ocean jaunt, John gathered some willing mates, hitched up the trailer, and they departed on their voyage of discovery. I'm told they all had their fingers crossed that day, hoping they'd be granted safe passage to travel.

http://i.imgur.com/26UC30x.jpg

John and his seafaring road crew were gone for a good few months. Diving deep in search of answers. Two to three months at sea is a very trying experience for any man - just watch Deadliest Catch if you don't believe me! But it wasn't a case of crabs that John and the boys were chasing. It was knowledge.

Immediately upon emerging from their learning expedition, the gang stumbled across a bunch of chicks catching some rays on a mound near their exit. John and the guys were delighted! They were rather sick of each others company by this stage, and at least their journey's end debriefing session would be a whole lot more palatable now with some chicks thrown into the mix. They felt surely it was a sign of the mission's fortuitous success - soft girly fingers at their de-briefing no less!

http://i.imgur.com/0DJlgOm.jpg

The weeks passed by and everything seemed to be going alright for our darling, troubled Johnny Cena. Occassionally a pussy would acquiesce to his request and allow him to pussy face-sit them - usually strays, but John appeared happy enough with that nonetheless. But if you looked at him closely you could see that, every now and then, he'd turn away from his group of friends, his smile faltered, and he became another person for a few seconds; a sad person, a person who was broken and damaged. And after a few depressing seconds, he'd go back to the group, smiling and joking around, he almost looked like he was actually happy. But, if you looked at him closely, you could see how spurious his smile actually was and you could see all the wreckage behind his fake smile. He was a tortured man.

And it was a phrase; a phrase which meant nothing to him, but one that had become burned into him by constant jabs like a red-hot steel, that was wreaking the most havoc across his troubled mind. Although his watery road-trip with the boys had been a learning experience and a great adventure, unfortunately for John, it did not provide the answers he so desperately sought. He was a man being consumed by an insistant phrase dogging his every move. Said in passing by a stranger, he had no idea of its meaning to him or why it wouldn't leave him alone.

But then it happened. One day, while preoccupied with amorous intent, a penny seemed to drop. Well, a penny of sorts, a sort of a penny. The stereo was on, tuned to radio, for random beats in the background to guide their rhythm. A song from Madonna began playing. Suddenly Cena Susaned burst into song, with great gusto, as if he was on Broadway in the midst of auditions for the lead in 'Evita'. But it wasn't musical theatre on his mind, and Argentina may well still have wept if they'd known of the path their namesake song was about to lead one man - a man, a fighter, denied and deprived of his beloved pussy face-sitting hobby.

The full details of what happened next are really quite harrowing and have no place on a comedy website. But the true story should be told (which it is, the editor of his memoirs is a close friend of mine - he leaks the goss to me, which I'm now secretly leaking all over the place here), so I've listed the main points in the below strip so you get the gist of the situation..

http://i.imgur.com/AM0ckhz.jpg

I shouldn't divulge the following information, but his book is due to be released soon so it will become public knowledge (but you'd better still buy his book even though I'm leaking some of the gossipy morsels). Besides, you're sworn to secrecy so it's only between you and I anyway. If you watch John Cena, you'll notice that two hand gestures are habitual with him. He does them all the time. Compelled to, even. It's all promotional, but the true underlying meaning behind the gestures is really quite sinister. He shows the back of his hand, flat palm, just holding up his hand. That's him basically saying, silently, "if the glove fits, I'll wear it! You deny me pussy face-sitting, pussy gon' feel the back of my gloved hand 'coz I'm gonna beat it, then I'm gon' be it!" Terrible, I know.

The other is worse still - he does that thumb-to-forefinger ring gesture a lot which people generally identify as meaning "okay". With John that's just him being like a gamer bragging about his strike rate. What he's saying with that gesture (I haven't spoken to him for awhile, so not sure if he's taking it by nightly/weekly/monthly counts these days) is "Zero convictions for *however many fingers prominently displayed fully erect* pussies beat!" You can tell when he's been real busy as he'll need to use two hands, more fingers upright, to make the beating count figure. He really is a shameless braggart, the poor tortured man.

Anyway, you'd think after miraculously escaping conviction, our wonderful boy would keep his head down, buried on a pussy perhaps, and stay out of the public eye. But, nope, he's the type who gets a bit of notoriety, the pussy starts flowing and flowing in for sitting, and he gets a hankering for more and more. What happens when a person gets a taste for such notoriety and attention? You guessed it! The bright lights of 'ollywood beckons. Our Johnny was no exception to the rule there.

I'm probably not telling you anything new here now - these have been in cinemas and even the Sunday night movie on telly. But, when relaying the real John Cena story, it would be remiss of me to leave them out, since he has kinda done some good things despite his troubled history. So, a refresher for you on his works during his Hollywood blockbuster gig...

The original:



The sequel:



The treacle:




And not forgetting his unforgettable stint as J.B...



Big John was genuinely happy for a while there. Pussy Galore eat your heart out! He wasn't giving them a Midas touch with his gold finger though; he just wanted to fall back into his first true love - pussy face-sitting. More pussies were being flung at him that he could ever sit on, backorders were lengthy, he was fair drowning in pussy. Yep, he had it good for a while. But Hollywood is a fickle mistress and he once again fell out of flavour with the pussies. A man bereft of what had become his Holly Hobby, is a man bereft of all sanity and reason.

Pussies again denied him access to sit on their face; John Cena again fell back into his same ol' bad habits.

And the destructive cycle began again... 




"To be the cat, you gotta beat the cat." ~ Canned Panda

ninety posted:

Um.

Code Jockey posted:

what

Dreddout posted:

Why are you guys so confused? He explains what's happening pretty clearly!