Category: Echo

What the body-crust is happening, all my fellow Nasties who have way too much time on your hands and dedicate much of it to creating murals, sculptures, and projectiles comprised of dried goo that comes from your various orifice— YUCK!  There is NO excuse for rolling your bdussy and boogers into muscle men, alien robots,…

What the butt-clench is happening, all my fellow miscalculating fuckers who’ve jumped into the sack with your lover without a second’s thought, but now sweat is beading across your forehead and shivers are running up your spine because you’re holding back the mother of all farts in the middle of smash-time and you don’t know…

What the hog-bulge is happening, all my well-endowed peers who comprise 95% of the market for gray, penis-revealing sweatpants and who also religiously practice your front-thrust up-twerk so you can get your wiener bouncing and jouncing like some kind of ecstatic sea-creature in the throes of— CHRIST ALMIGHTY, COVER YOUR PIECE!  Don’t be flaunting that…

What the jerk-chafe is happening, all you wiener-beaters who stroke with the intensity of a thousand suns, but deeply regret it after your sixth or seventh jerk within 24 hours and now you’re reaching with a trembling hand for your tattered penis, teeth gritted like a mortally wounded action hero who’s about to pull the…