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guys it's halloween tell your spoopiest stories
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Oct 1, 2018 06:47
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 15:52 |
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So a friend of mine lives on an island alone, is scared of the dark anyway, and doesn't have any neighbours for quite a wide distance. There was a storm going and she was quite freaked out to begin with then she remembers that I had messaged her earlier and she clicks the link I'd sent her to be greeted with this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gL4XqkQOFU she freaked the gently caress out and exploded at me to never ever do anything like that again i give it 4 laughing skulls out of 7
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Oct 1, 2018 06:49
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It was December the 7th. The cold, smoky world outside my cell was filled with the endless and continuing noises of the night - snores, the occasional moan. From somewhere the thunderous but muffled sound of last nights meal erupted into someone's sleeping bag, hardly disturbing the dreamer and only tinging his tent mates nose with the slightest of displeasure. In the night, an owl hooted. A bushtit twiddled. A porta-potty door slammed shut, as its sleepy user shuffled back off to his uncomfortable rest. A generator rumbled on, pouring a light onto the row of blue shitters so that its users would not be spared the experience of gazing upon the mountain of poo poo collecting in the innards of the their blue tanks. It had been three days since the rental company had serviced the crappers, and while most made their trip to the shitter as short as could be, mainly on account of the smell, I had not. That evenings meal, and the prior evenings meal, and in fact, every meal I had had since I arrived had consisted of some part of a cow, and it was clear my guts were not happy with the arrangements. No matter how many trips I made to the salad bar, cups of coffee I drank, water I guzzled, or metamucil I swallowed, I was a constipated boy. It was 2 in the morning, and it was quiet as a fire camp could be - somewhere between the passing of a freight train and an inner-city freeway. As I strained to pass the hard rocks contained within my rectum, I heard the sound. It's an unforgettable sound. The sound of fingers, being applied to a woman's vagina. And it was clear that the person who was applying those fingers to their vagina was both in a hurry, and right next to me. Indeed, I was close enough to hear the low moans, and even discern the vocal qualities to whom they belonged. And no, it was not someone who I wanted to imagine furiously slapping their meat right next to me. It was Lee-Anna, who's only achievement in the CCC so far was to manage to get herself banned from three different buildings on center for masturbating. This furious stroker of the cat was also on my crew, and it was not an uncommon thing to put one's tent as far as you could from her, for this precise reason. Despite this, I still had a literal pain in my rear end to deal with. So, the business of trying to pass an unyielding piece of metal through an uncomfortably small space continued. At this point, I had held my grunts in, but the low moans continued to rise. LeeAnna was going to burst. Complicating this already uncomfortable process I was dealing with was that now, to complement the eau de poo poo, the unmistakable smell of some rank vagina assaulted my nostrils. I decided that politeness was now beside the point. "Urrrrggggghhhh", the low and contained roar of a constipated lion came from my throat. This turd was going to be the cherry on poo poo mountain, and I was not leaving until that happened, masturbating fat lady or no. I strained. I shifted. The low moans grew in their ecstasy. We were both coming to our climax. My rage was grew rock hard. I spread my legs and shoved with all my strength. From the portapotty next to me, the low moans suddenly went quiet. And then, plop! An unsatisfying small turd reluctantly seperated from my body. A sigh of clearly carnal pleasure came from next door. I put my head into my hands. A door slammed, and heavy footfalls trudged back into the night, followed by the unzipping and zipping of a tent. The business of the evening, done. Fire loving suuuuuuuucks
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Oct 1, 2018 07:37
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Welcome friend, welcome. Sit down beside the fire. No, get closer. It's a cold night. A bad night to be out, what were you doing out so late? No matter. You just warm yourself beside that fire. I'd offer you some food but I don't have anything to share. Well, it's just gone Spooktober, my friend. This only rolls around every once in a few hundred years. And as one weary traveller to another, let me share a few things you need to be wary of for the next month. If you listen too closely to the wind, you might hear it whispering to itself. It's the great Shimazu, the wind from the southern north. Legend tells it that any who listen too hard are never quite the same again. And if you cast your eyes skyward, you might see the stars shiver and blink as though they were afraid. And they are, my friend, as we should be. For at these times, the great Wild Hunt roams through the sky, led by the fierce hell hounds Lando, Monty, and Jelly. You don't want them to catch you late at night, far from light or hope. You just stay next to this fire, lad, and you'll wake up safe and sound tomorrow. Pull that blanket closer around yourself, and I'll tell you of Tandy, the Ants, and the 2/19th. Nothing to worry yourself over, my friend, but there are dark whispers of the four great demon princes who wander the earth during Spooktober, led by the shrieking witch herself. I won't whisper their names for fear they hear us, but you know of whom I speak. Get some sleep, lad. We'll talk more later.
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Oct 1, 2018 23:16
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Fake war journal, day 3 - I have MRE farts like ghosts in the wind, and no chili mac
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Oct 2, 2018 23:22
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