Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
Interesting, I hope that you have the rest of the set!
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Odds And Ends And Anything You Fancy
- Thread starter Eulalia
- Start date
whipmaster2
Magistrate
only in videos, I think. Or peep shows/adult bookstores.
whipmaster2
Magistrate
Well, SOMEBODY'S nipples are standing at attention!
Migoz2
Senator
Unfortunately, it looks as if these are a taster from a pay website, stmackenzies.com.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I never was aware, hockey was so inspiring!
trickydicky4u
Governor
That shed is nowhere near big enough for that!Tree’s stash of porn magazines?
Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
Well gosh darn it!
foggybottom
Venator imaginum
IO SATURNALIA !!! 
Time to eat, drink, gamble, give gifts, masters wait on your slaves and get naked ! Yes I realize that was actually from the Julian calendar which also put the Solstice on the 25th December. But any reason to party is a good reason right? Right!
connoisseurs
Senator
They don´t give the impression that they know how to play hockey. I am sure they are finding only one use for the racket - and thats not hockey!I never was aware, hockey was so inspiring!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Honestly : who cares!?
There were more Gibbs, but I didn't keep them.
sorry!Continuing the stripping theme, clothed and unclothed
and a recursive brain twister for you
Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
MORE!!!There were more Gibbs, but I didn't keep them.
Continuing the stripping theme, clothed and unclothed
View attachment 794063View attachment 794064View attachment 794065View attachment 794066View attachment 794067
and a recursive brain twister for you
View attachment 794062
thanks
Do we need one?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
An early poem lamenting premature ejactulation
"The Imperfect Enjoyment" John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charms;
Both equally inspired with eager fire,
Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.
With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,
She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
Her nimble tongue, love’s lesser lightning, played
Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul, sprung with the pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o’er her balmy brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid raptures I dissolve all o’er,
Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore.
A touch from any part of her had done ’t:
Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt.
Smiling, she chides in a kind murmuring noise,
And from her body wipes the clammy joys,
When, with a thousand kisses wandering o’er
My panting bosom, “Is there then no more?”
She cries. “All this to love and rapture’s due;
Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too?”
But I, the most forlorn, lost man alive,
To show my wished obedience vainly strive:
I sigh, alas! and kiss, but cannot swive.
Eager desires confound my first intent,
Succeeding shame does more success prevent,
And rage at last confirms me impotent.
Ev’n her fair hand, which might bid heat return
To frozen age, and make cold hermits burn,
Applied to my dear cinder, warms no more
Than fire to ashes could past flames restore.
Trembling, confused, despairing, limber, dry,
A wishing, weak, unmoving lump I lie.
This dart of love, whose piercing point, oft tried,
With virgin blood ten thousand maids has dyed,
Which nature still directed with such art
That it through every cunt reached every heart—
Stiffly resolved, ’twould carelessly invade
Woman or man, nor ought its fury stayed:
Where’er it pierced, a cunt it found or made—
Now languid lies in this unhappy hour,
Shrunk up and sapless like a withered flower.
Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame,
False to my passion, fatal to my fame,
Through what mistaken magic dost thou prove
So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?
What oyster-cinder-beggar-common whore
Didst thou e’er fail in all thy life before?
When vice, disease, and scandal lead the way,
With what officious haste doest thou obey!
Like a rude, roaring hector in the streets
Who scuffles, cuffs, and justles all he meets,
But if his king or country claim his aid,
The rakehell villain shrinks and hides his head;
Ev’n so thy brutal valor is displayed,
Breaks every stew, does each small whore invade,
But when great Love the onset does command,
Base recreant to thy prince, thou dar’st not stand.
Worst part of me, and henceforth hated most,
Through all the town a common fucking post,
On whom each whore relieves her tingling cunt
As hogs on gates do rub themselves and grunt,
Mayst thou to ravenous chancres be a prey,
Or in consuming weepings waste away;
May strangury and stone thy days attend;
May’st thou never piss, who didst refuse to spend
When all my joys did on false thee depend.
And may ten thousand abler pricks agree
To do the wronged Corinna right for thee.
"The Imperfect Enjoyment" John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charms;
Both equally inspired with eager fire,
Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.
With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,
She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
Her nimble tongue, love’s lesser lightning, played
Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul, sprung with the pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o’er her balmy brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid raptures I dissolve all o’er,
Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore.
A touch from any part of her had done ’t:
Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt.
Smiling, she chides in a kind murmuring noise,
And from her body wipes the clammy joys,
When, with a thousand kisses wandering o’er
My panting bosom, “Is there then no more?”
She cries. “All this to love and rapture’s due;
Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too?”
But I, the most forlorn, lost man alive,
To show my wished obedience vainly strive:
I sigh, alas! and kiss, but cannot swive.
Eager desires confound my first intent,
Succeeding shame does more success prevent,
And rage at last confirms me impotent.
Ev’n her fair hand, which might bid heat return
To frozen age, and make cold hermits burn,
Applied to my dear cinder, warms no more
Than fire to ashes could past flames restore.
Trembling, confused, despairing, limber, dry,
A wishing, weak, unmoving lump I lie.
This dart of love, whose piercing point, oft tried,
With virgin blood ten thousand maids has dyed,
Which nature still directed with such art
That it through every cunt reached every heart—
Stiffly resolved, ’twould carelessly invade
Woman or man, nor ought its fury stayed:
Where’er it pierced, a cunt it found or made—
Now languid lies in this unhappy hour,
Shrunk up and sapless like a withered flower.
Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame,
False to my passion, fatal to my fame,
Through what mistaken magic dost thou prove
So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?
What oyster-cinder-beggar-common whore
Didst thou e’er fail in all thy life before?
When vice, disease, and scandal lead the way,
With what officious haste doest thou obey!
Like a rude, roaring hector in the streets
Who scuffles, cuffs, and justles all he meets,
But if his king or country claim his aid,
The rakehell villain shrinks and hides his head;
Ev’n so thy brutal valor is displayed,
Breaks every stew, does each small whore invade,
But when great Love the onset does command,
Base recreant to thy prince, thou dar’st not stand.
Worst part of me, and henceforth hated most,
Through all the town a common fucking post,
On whom each whore relieves her tingling cunt
As hogs on gates do rub themselves and grunt,
Mayst thou to ravenous chancres be a prey,
Or in consuming weepings waste away;
May strangury and stone thy days attend;
May’st thou never piss, who didst refuse to spend
When all my joys did on false thee depend.
And may ten thousand abler pricks agree
To do the wronged Corinna right for thee.
Frank Petrexa
Tribune
LittleSiss
Sorceress
I need a glass of wine!
The chimney thing was always puzzling.
But the cookies or biscuits was obviously a rouse!
Stockings were always hung on my bed post.
And I never knew where the coal came from?????
Regifting? How long has it been going on???
Always remember!!!!
Cornbread are square, Pie are round!
Certain pies are not round...I need a glass of wine!
The chimney thing was always puzzling.
But the cookies or biscuits was obviously a rouse!
Stockings were always hung on my bed post.
And I never knew where the coal came from?????
Regifting? How long has it been going on???
Always remember!!!!
Cornbread are square, Pie are round!
whipmaster2
Magistrate
The hair variety, for instance...Certain pies are not round...