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Who From Bay 13 Would You Have A Beer With?

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They certainly make someone look more rootable!

(Not Little Baggies though - they need to stay unseen under the cash drawer for another 20 years or so...)
Hot
 
Probably most of you..
There is the moment of utter corruption, around eleven or eleven-thirty in the morning. One goes to urinate, washes their hands and looks into the bathroom mirror. The clock in the workroom grows audible. One realizes the isolation and imprisonment of the body, one realizes the hell of the body, and not only here, everywhere and as long as one lives, one longs for another body, naked and loving, a man or a woman, as it may be. One mixes a drink of rye and water, sips half of it truculently at a window, looks at the sterile, made bed and contemplates masturbating and turns from it in fear and scorn. One stalks about the room like a criminal imprisoned, unregenerate, incorrigible. This is the moment delicious, nihilitive, supreme, all-answering, the moment of utter corruption.
 

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There is the moment of utter corruption, around eleven or eleven-thirty in the morning. One goes to urinate, washes their hands and looks into the bathroom mirror. The clock in the workroom grows audible. One realizes the isolation and imprisonment of the body, one realizes the hell of the body, and not only here, everywhere and as long as one lives, one longs for another body, naked and loving, a man or a woman, as it may be. One mixes a drink of rye and water, sips half of it truculently at a window, looks at the sterile, made bed and contemplates masturbating and turns from it in fear and scorn. One stalks about the room like a criminal imprisoned, unregenerate, incorrigible. This is the moment delicious, nihilitive, supreme, all-answering, the moment of utter corruption.
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There is the moment of utter corruption, around eleven or eleven-thirty in the morning. One goes to urinate, washes their hands and looks into the bathroom mirror. The clock in the workroom grows audible. One realizes the isolation and imprisonment of the body, one realizes the hell of the body, and not only here, everywhere and as long as one lives, one longs for another body, naked and loving, a man or a woman, as it may be. One mixes a drink of rye and water, sips half of it truculently at a window, looks at the sterile, made bed and contemplates masturbating and turns from it in fear and scorn. One stalks about the room like a criminal imprisoned, unregenerate, incorrigible. This is the moment delicious, nihilitive, supreme, all-answering, the moment of utter corruption.

You were doing great until mentioning turning away from masturbation "in fear and scorn". They're basically lube to the average Bay poster.
 
You were doing great until mentioning turning away from masturbation "in fear and scorn". They're basically lube to the average Bay poster.
my favourite part of the weekend is waking up, masturbating to something high concept and abstract like armpits, large breasts and money, then going back to sleep, before essendon ruins everything.
 
my favourite part of the weekend is waking up, masturbating to something high concept and abstract like armpits, large breasts and money, then going back to sleep, before essendon ruins everything.
Yeah you wouldn’t want to be mid stroke and all of a sudden Dwayne Russell is on your TV screen yelling at the coin toss. 🥲
 
Yeah you wouldn’t want to be mid stroke and all of a sudden Dwayne Russell is on your TV screen yelling at the coin toss. 🥲

Speak for yourself...
 

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So you’re saying if I suggest to the missus we spice things up a bit and hand her the Rexona she’ll be hot under the collar?

Just be careful with your placement, if the Rexona gets on your purple you might be hot under the hood.
 

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Who From Bay 13 Would You Have A Beer With?

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