dear WATMM

I logged in about 5 minutes ago anticipating some light evening lols. But I found none of the active threads to be satisfactory in this sense. Therefore, I have established this thread for the purpose of mild evening entertainment while I'm doing my work and slightly drunk.

Yours sincerely,

Ezkerraldean

good evening sir, may i take your coat?

and would you perchance fancy a glass of wine to ease your way into the evening?

pikachu

jigglypuff

Roll on the ska-jazz!

Cognac for me, waiter.

SQLString

i bring terrible news from afar

the germans are mobilizing their donk armies

  thec said:

i bring terrible news from afar

 

the germans are mobilizing their donk armies

*braces for the onslaught of crushing donks*

  thec said:

i bring terrible news from afar

 

the germans are mobilizing their donk armies

the new adonkalypse is upon us

yes, word on the wire is they have also started to produce mass weapons of donkstruction, such as the hydrodonk bomb.

oh no parliament voted to rename the reichsdonkstag

censored by the gestdonko

  ezkerraldean said:

I logged in about 5 minutes ago anticipating some light evening lols. But I found none of the active threads to be satisfactory in this sense. Therefore, I have established this thread for the purpose of mild evening entertainment while I'm doing my work and slightly drunk.

 

Yours sincerely,

Ezkerraldean

donkey shone

I AM MIDDLE AMERICAN< HERE WE ROAR

She put her hand around his penis and moved it back and forth and it no longer seemed strange, not even a part of his body, more a part of hers, the sensations flowing in one unbroken circle. And she could hear herself panting now, like a dog, but she didn't care.

And she realised that it was going to happen and she heard herself saying, 'Yes, yes, yes,' and even hearing the sound of her own voice didn't break the spell. And it swept over her like surf sweeping over sand then falling back and sweeping up over the sand again and falling back.

Images went off in her head like little fireworks. The smell of coconut. Brass firedogs. The starched bolster in her parents' bed. A hot cone of grass-clippings. She was breaking up into a thousand tiny pieces, like snow, or bonfire sparks, tumbling high in the air, then starting to fall, so slowly it hardly seemed like falling at all.

He waited for a couple of minutes. 'And now,' he said, 'I think it's my turn.'