2003-10-26 18:15:04 ET
It has been noted by numerous historians as being ironic the fact that George Washington, the man credited with being the "Father of our Country", has fathered not a single child. Alas it is less known and not at all ironic the fact that George Washington's wooden teeth had had more sexual relations than the nation's first president himself. It is from the teeth's raucous rampages that the sexual euphemism "wood" comes from. With an ingrained mastery of flirtation the teeth kindled the passions of women like a dry log in the fireplace.
The teeth could be credited with being the most liberal lovers of their time and age. The race of the opposite sex played no role in their choosing of a nightly suitor. Nor did other such trivial factors come into play. The teeth cared not if their sex partner (or partners) for the night was white or black or oriental or eskimo. Nor did they care if they were young or old, dead or living. In fact, the only thing that mattered to the teeth was a hole. If something didn't have a hole the teeth wouldn't touch it. However, if something was in fact endowed with an orifice, or better yet, multiple orifices, it was quite frankly "fair game".
The teeth were expert seducers. Within minutes they'd have females laying prostrate on the floor all set to make love to the piney dentures. Obviously this was much more easier to do with dead women but embalming fluid has not been invented yet and the rapid decomposition of tissues had ruined many an orgy.
It must be mentioned here that the teeth were the pioneers of pickup lines. They've thought up such classics as "Baby, can I nibble on your clit?" and "Have you ever been fucked by some molars before?" They spoke such lines in a variety of languages such as English, Spanish, Italian, and that everlasting language of love - Chinese. The teeth were also quite erudite in the tongues of long lost civilizations. They were fluent in the speech of the Ancient Greeks, the Azteks, the Atlanteans, and the Smurfs. Knowledge of the latter was especially useful to the teeth during their wooing of that famed blue skinned lilliputian, Smurfette.
The teeth were suave, educated, and also kind. Especially to the handicapped. In one very well documented occurence, the teeth engaged in a love affair with a blind woman named Betsy. Betsy was blind in both eyes, the result of a wild grizzly "penising" her eyes. For a good part of her life Betsy had lived with glass spheres for eyes as a result of this gruesome incident. None the less, the teeth proceeded to seduce her, remove her glass eyes, and fuck her in her eye sockets. Betsy told all in her memoirs "Bear Fucked Betsy, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Got Fucked In My Eye Holes".
Forbidden love was also known to the teeth who had their own "monkey on a chain". This "monkey on a chain" was a three titted male chimpanzee that the teeth kept around for those rare nights when love did not approach their bicuspid selves. They would do... unmentionable things to that simian. Still, it was all done out of love. And desperation. Also, lots of lube was used.
However, the teeth's sexual flame began to wither away in their later years. Towards the end of the teeth's long and sticky life even the deceased refused their advances. It was from such unfortunate but common occurrences that the phrase "turning over in one's grave" comes from. 'Twas a sad end for the teeth's sexual savantry.
Still, their legacy lives on. The teeth will always be remembered. Matters it not if all records and memories of them will slowly degrade and disappear for the teeth will live on in a different kind of memory. Genetic memory. For you see, George Washington's wooden teeth were directly responsible for the birth of over half this country's inhabitants. Most American families can trace their ancestry to those wooden dentures, those harbingers of hedonism, those true fathers of our country, those teeth.
2003-10-26 15:12:04 ET
Q: Chicks dig me. What am I?
A: Mass grave used by female ninja assassins.
|Another one of my... stories...|
2003-10-25 21:58:09 ET
Harry was just your average Erotic Vacuum Cleaner salesman. Ringing doorbells and greeting potential customers with the company slogan of "The Erotic Vacuum Cleaner, it fucks as it sucks!", it was how he earned his living. It was an average job with average pay. And that was good enough for Harry.
And every day Harry came home to his average apartment in his average city of Fuckaduck, Arkansas. He had an average life and average interests. He liked average sports and average foods. There was only one thing that was unusual about Harry and that was his ham fetish.
One night, after working late, Harry finally arrived at his average flat. He was tired but proud. He had just sold a plethora of Erotic Vacuum Cleaners to a very wealthy Hungarian sausage factory owner and had recieved quite a lot of money from the commision fee. That same night he stopped at the local butcher store and bought himself the largest ham he could find. Tonight was going to be the night, Harry thought. Tonight was going to be the night.
He took the ham out of the bag and placed it on a small wooden table. He made way for his closet which contained all of his ham fetish paraphernalia. Leather, whips, chains, ropes, whip cream, and a copy of "Ham Fucking For Dummies". He was going to need it all for tonight.
He stripped naked and put on his leather mailman outfit. He tied up the ham in leather webbing and using thick cotton ropes suspended it from the ceiling. Then he reached for the whip cream and completely covered the ham in the white creamy substance. He took out a cassete tape marked "Whip It - Devo", placed it into his stereo and set it to full volume.He pressed play and the shouts of WHIP IT! along with
synthesizer music filled the air.
And then he began whipping the ham. Lashing away, whipping it with full strength, each strike sending a flurry of whip cream flying. Striking it with the raw passion of a man who lusts for ham. And Harry did lust for his ham. He didn't just want it. Oh no. He needed it. He needed it as badly as a drowning man needs air. He needed ham to live. Which is why he was standing there, naked except for a black leather mailman's outfit, "Whip It" playing on the stereo full blast, lashing away at the suspended ham with a massive bull whip. He was doing it out of lust, out of desire, out of need, out of love. He was whipping the ham.
Finally he stopped. Exhausted. It was time, he thought. Time to fuck the ham.
He walked up to a kitchen drawer and took out a razor sharp kitchen knife. After which he approached the ham and softly, quietly, with expert precision began carving out an orifice. It didn't take long before he finished creating an opening. He put away the knife and got out a tube of lubricant which he began to gently apply to the ham's orifice.
Finally he was done. He reached down and undid the zipper of his black leather mailman's outfit and whipped out his tool.
He entered the ham quickly and abruptly and began fucking it rhythmically to the beat of the music emanating from the stereo. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
He kissed the ham and licked it with his tongue. It tasted raw. With a bit of seasoning. He began fucking it faster. More rapidly now. He was reaching that point. And with every thrust he was closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.
"Not yet" he said and pulled out.
Harry walked over to his pet hamster's cage. Below the cage was a pile of plumbing equipment. He reached down and grabbed a lengthy PVC pipe. Then he reached into the cage and pulled out his pet hamster, Jimmy Hoffa.
Using the kitchen knife he made another orifice near the top of the suspended ham. He shoved the PVC down this newly created opening. Then he threw in little bits of cheese followed by Jimmy Hoffa. Withing seconds Harry could hear him scraping away. Harry smiled and then turned his attention back to fucking the ham.
"Now where were we?" he asked himself. In reply he penetrated the ham once again and began to fuck it. Soon he felt himself reaching that point once more. Closer. Closer. Closer. This time he didnt stop. Closer. Closer. Closer.
He came into the ham. Millions of tiny sperm traversing through the orifice inside the massive bulk of meat that was the ham.
Harry pulled away, all spent. He walked up to his refrigirator and pulled out an ice cold bottle of Jack Daniels. It was a good day, he thought as he drank himself into unconsciousness.
2003-10-25 12:24:17 ET
Hey, if anyone wants to comment or add me they should feel free to do so. I don't bite. I don't have rabies. Not anymore at least. And my ass and stomach are still sore from all the shots.
|This is something I've written a few years back...|
2003-10-24 21:55:35 ET
Linda Limbs had no limbs. Confined to her hospital bed at the local hospital, her only companions were a morphine bag, and Skag - the clumsy janitor. However, this sad day, Linda's morphine bag was as empty as overused diarrhea prone bowels and Skag was nowhere in sight. The reason
for his absence, Linda reasoned, was probably that accident he had with that old metal, razor sharp rake. The one that took off his legs. He probably was recovering in one of the many rooms of the hospital. Two stumps for legs and no way to get to Linda. She started to cry. Oh how miserable her life was! And no morphine to dull the pain of living!
She lay there on her back, sobbing. Her full, perfect quadruple-amputee breasts heaved back and forth with each breath. And then suddenly she lay still. Her grief interrupted by a loud metallic bang emanating from somewhere down the hall.
What could that be? thought Linda. And then, seemingly in reply to her mental inquiry, in rode a wheelchair. Dragging poor legless Skag behind it. His shirt sleeve was caught by one of the wheels.
"Skag!" Linda cried "Skag what are you doing here?"
"I just came over to see you. I bribed the nurse and she snuck in this wheelchair. However I crashed into a pole on my way here and I fell off."
"Oh Skag, what would I ever do if it wasn't for you?"
Skag didn't reply. He was too busy freeing his sleeve from the wheelchair wheel's grip of death. Finally, using his powerful arms, he "leaped" into the seat and rolled himself over to Linda.
"Linda... there is something... something I'd like to say to you if you don't mind..."
"What is it Skag? What is it? Don't you know you can tell me anything?"
"Well Linda, you see... I love you. I've been in love with you ever since we've met. I don't care if you have no limbs. Hell look at me! I don't have any legs! I love you Linda! Tell me you love me too!"
"Yes! Yes Skag I do! I've loved you since the first time I've laid eyes on you! And it doesn't matter if you don't have any legs! It doesn't matter! You don't need legs to love! You don't need legs! You only need one thing! Your James Bond, Skag! I want your James Bond in me! I want to ride on your James Bond like there's no tomorrow!"
"Oh Linda! I never knew you felt that way!"
"Don't speak Skag! Just come over here and do me! Do me like a moose does a stray cow!"
"Yes Linda! Yes!" cried Skag and began moving the wheelchair ever closer to her bed until finally it reached the edge. Once more Skag used his powerful arms to "leap" from the wheelchair onto Linda's hospital bed. Quickly, he
began undressing her. Button by button. Knot by knot. Leather strap by leather strap.
And Linda Limbs lay there in heat. Absolutely nude. Her gorgeous torso and breasts completely exposed to Skag. "Take me!" she cried "Take me like candy from a baby!"
Skag unzipped his fake pants and let out his mighty James Bond. It was big and wide. But not too big like a John Wayne or a Kelsey Grammer. No, it was a James Bond. And it was just right for Linda, just like the Little Bear's porridge was just right for Goldilocks.
He entered her bear trap and Linda moaned with pleasure. She was hornier than Santa's reindeer. Skag started pumping his secret agent in and out. In and out. Linda just kept on moaning, and twisting around as best as she could on her hospital bed.
Skag sped up their sensuous rhythm. Slowly manuevering his James Bond in and out of Linda's bear trap caressing her clitoris with it's secret agent head. Then suddenly he withdrew.
"What is it?" asked Linda.
"I want you to suck my secret agent" said Skag.
Linda didnt reply. Instead she just opened her mouth wide in expectation of double-oh-seven. Skag used is arms to "arm-walk" over to her head and as he lowered himself he stuck his James Bond into her vocal orifice and began pumping in and out, in and out, in a wild frenzy.
Linda moaned, her pleasure sounds muffled by Skag's secret agent.
"Oh Linda!" yelled Skag as he pushed double-oh-seven in and out of her mouth. He put his arms behind him, laying them on her breasts. His fingers tweaked her nipples like a ham radio operator on crack. "Oh Linda, I think I'm going to come!"
Quickly he withdrew his James Bond from her mouth. Loads of semen shot out from the secret agent's one eye, some landing on Linda's hair, her face, her neck, and one in her left nostril.
"Oh Skag" Linda said lusciously "that was the best time I ever had. Promise me we'll do this everyday!"
"I promise Linda, I promise!" said Skag lovingly as he dressed Linda, wiping his Elmer's Glue off her head.
Suddenly they heard a nurse approaching.
"Oh Skag! Here comes the nurse! You better go!" cried Linda.
Skag zipped up his fake pants, kissed Linda on the mouth, "arm-leaped" into his wheelchair, and stormed out of the room faster than Dale Earndheart. But not before saying "I love you!"
2003-10-24 10:10:50 ET
Some people tell me I look like an older Christopher Walken. What do you think?
2003-10-24 09:55:41 ET
Hello, thank you to everyone who commented on my journal.
In other news, grandma came over to do an exorcism on the computer. It's been having trouble lately so I had to call her up for repairs. I used to use some voudoun folk but they just don't do as good a job as grandma. Anyway here's a pic of her at work:
|Jump to page: [Previous] 1 « 43 44 45 46 47 [Next]|
Back to Enamon's page
Everything on this page is copyrighted to the individual page owners and/or subkultures.net.