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| So I was getting done up the butt hardcore the other day by some dude I met in Germany. My head kept slamming against the wall because he was tagging my ass pretty rigorously. | |
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| While I was eating paint chips and drywall, I realized something extremely crucial that I suppose I should have known a long, long time ago: I'm not gay. | |
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| But there I was, being pounded from behind like a punked-out white boy in prison by a Teutonic Titan, who had a member so huge I swear I could feel it hit the back of my throat with each thrust. | |
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| Then I realized if I'm not the gay one, Arnold Schwanzenpumper back there had to be the gay one. I mean, he likes to do guys up the butt! Then I had another epiphany: I'm not a guy. | |
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| Yeah, those were HIS balls floppin' around back there, not mine. It was quite a day for revelations. | |
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| (One time I fell down a rabbit's hole and he asked me not to be so forward.) | |
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