BigJimsWornOutTires
Fire
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
- Posts
- 29,991
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“I’m a legend on the forum,” lying on his side, the twink said. A pink tank top hung loosely over his privates but his exposed butt had Looksmax written all over it. The naked 400-pound friend with benefits lay beside him. The twink added, “I still can’t get over the fact that you’re CEO on there.”
“They banned me,” patting the scrawny feller’s butt, he uttered.
“That was soooooooooooooo wrong.”
“Eh, it’s cool,” Mr. Happy Eater said. “I have a dozen other accounts on there.”
“Did you hear that the Shady Members of Society manipulated some of the members to ignore Big Jim’s Worn Out Tire Sale?”
“Ah, yes, another moment on ORG,” CEO assured him.
A peeping Tom in the bedroom window, standing on a ladder, screamed to the glass, “Are the mods gonna do anything about this faggot shit he’s writing?”
CEO and his twink winced. A black robed feller manifested from a dark blue van and ran to the ladder and pushed the bottom out. The snowflake fell and slammed into the ground. His bones shattered as he cried out like a little bitch. The cryptic feller drew a small yellow notepad from under his robe and a pen. He scribbled on it. He peeled a slip and tossed it on him. That note read, KYS. He hurried back to his van and got inside. He drove off. His personalized license plate read, MSTR-666.
“They banned me,” patting the scrawny feller’s butt, he uttered.
“That was soooooooooooooo wrong.”
“Eh, it’s cool,” Mr. Happy Eater said. “I have a dozen other accounts on there.”
“Did you hear that the Shady Members of Society manipulated some of the members to ignore Big Jim’s Worn Out Tire Sale?”
“Ah, yes, another moment on ORG,” CEO assured him.
A peeping Tom in the bedroom window, standing on a ladder, screamed to the glass, “Are the mods gonna do anything about this faggot shit he’s writing?”
CEO and his twink winced. A black robed feller manifested from a dark blue van and ran to the ladder and pushed the bottom out. The snowflake fell and slammed into the ground. His bones shattered as he cried out like a little bitch. The cryptic feller drew a small yellow notepad from under his robe and a pen. He scribbled on it. He peeled a slip and tossed it on him. That note read, KYS. He hurried back to his van and got inside. He drove off. His personalized license plate read, MSTR-666.
