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  1. I was the kid that poked holes in the plastic packaging of paper towels and toilet paper. I was the kid that picked up just about everything in the grocery store. I’d squeeze the loaves of bread. Press my face against the beer six-packs.

    But the one section I always avoided during these tactile excursions was the meats. The asceptic cellophane and styrofoam packaging, the deep red color of the meats, the intercellular fluid that was apt to leak onto your hands and make them sticky. It didn’t excite me at all.

    Around the time I entered adolescence, I learned about menstruation. I just assumed that men got used to and even enjoyed when their girlfriends and wives had blood gushing from their genitalia. Maybe sexual attraction and arousal were acquired tastes. Tastes like you might form for coffee or beer. And, so, I was determined to teach myself to enjoy my imagined future lover’s monthly exsanguination. I started visiting the meat section.

    Meat is surprisingly sexual. The pornographic red color of so much of it. The flesh that exists for your pleasure. Chicken breasts and thighs can be fondled without repercussion. Pork chops appeared much like I imagined meaty pussy lips might. Even thick-sliced ham’s texture reminded me of how I imagined the inside of a vagina might feel. Slightly uneven, a bit smooth, but still rough enough to provide pleasurable rubbing friction.

    I fingered the meats through their condom-like plastic protective coverings. Whole chickens with their interior cavities hollowed out, ready for stuffing. Spread eagle, gaping wide. You can’t get much more sexual than that.

    Packages of ground beef. The soft-textured yet viscerally red flesh play-dough. I poked holes in the packaging and fingered the horrid mix. I stuck my whole hand in a bulk package of ground beef. And I found myself extremely aroused.

    I started using my spare cash to buy near-expiration packages of meat. If no one else was going to love them, I would.

    Just about any of the meat products could easily be fashioned into a surrogate vagina or orifice of choice. But my favorites were the ground meats. You could mold them into anything. The first time I fucked a mound of 80/20 ground chuck, I experienced near sensory overload. The obscenely crimson color of the meat, the soft, pliable texture, the sound it made as I gently fucked a hole into it. The wonderful sound of flesh suctioning around my dick. And I owned it. This flesh was mine to abuse and use as I saw fit. The best part about fucking a mound of ground beef is you can blow a load right into it, mix it back with the rest of the package, and no one’s the wiser. Tacos for dinner, hamburgers for lunch. Alas, my sexual adventure ended when I got an infection. And I learned that most men aren’t all that interested in fucking girls when they are menstruating. But my experiment wasn’t for naught. I still get a little hard when I drive by a Burger King and smell the beef.

  2. I opened discord today at 4 with the intent of joining this server. I then proceeded to chat on four other servers and go on vc. I closed discord 10 minutes ago and just reopened this page at 9 pm, realizing that I never joined the server.

  3. That was funny!

    My border collie is smarter than your Honor Student.
    My Python Bot is smarter than your President!

    Hey, that even rhymes. (There is nothing un-American about saying the truth.)