Hey now! Ikey, he 100% red-blooded straight.
Just trying to provide some solid advice to this obviously conflicted young man.
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I'm sick of all the gay guys gawking.
- Thread starter Bloodshot Scott
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- anal fisting anal prolapse awfully! bloodshotscott chugs cock bloodshotscott loves ike gay and doesn't know it gay and lonely gay bashing homophobia i just farted identity crisis may i sit on your boner? scott to suck your dick spank my ass you sexy boy this calls for a rim job! thread gawkers unite tossed salad special
Hey now! Ikey, he 100% red-blooded straight.
Just trying to provide some solid advice to this obviously conflicted young man.
It's always the same with bigots like BS Scott, they go around talking crap about gays, blacks, hispanics, etc. but to them it's alright because either 1)They either have "friends" of these groups or 2)They have "no problem" with the people in question. It's just a stupid mechanism that racists and homophobes use to get away with being racist and unfair, but most people can see right through these lying mechanisms. If he really had "no problem" he wouldn't have even posted this thread in the first place.
Ask yourself this, BS scott..In other threads you say you have friends of the minority groups you post so strongly against and in this one you say you have "no problem" with gays so I'm assuming you have at least a small amount of compassion for them... If so, What would your "friends" think if they read all the backwards crap you spew on this board? And what would these gays think after reading this thread? I highly doubt they would be happy with you. :2 cents:
Also, No homo is such a stupid thing to use, I heard my friend's THIRTEEN YEAR OLD brother using that crap and I thought it was the most ridiculous crap ever. You just end up calling more unneeded attention to yourself with it.
Oh paleeeeze. I don't dress gay, fag. I dress however I want to dress; whether it's an authentic jersey, destructive jeans with a sweater, a Pink Floyd or Metallica T, sandals, shoes...whatever. You're a little small-minded there buddy to assume that just because a person dresses a certain way that it is a true example of that person. :nono: Don't be so closed-minded.
Probably gay? Hahaha...not really. Really not really. Plus I grew up in a pretty gaylliberal metro area in the country, so I've known quite a few. No big deal. I was totally against them being bullied or anything like that in school if I ever saw it, but, again...no homo. :nono:
And you're an Internet psychologist now, are you?
Bottom line: I don't mind If I see a dude look at me briefly, but If anyone stares at me, it peeves me the fuck off. Same goes for the gay guys. Fuckers need to learn common courtesy.
Listen old man, on the East Side if you even imply shit like that you get your teeth knocked out. That's just the way it is. Could be straight, gay...fuckin martian for all I care, if you give me grief expect to be dealt with accordingly.
PlasmaTwa2
The Second-Hottest Man in my Mother's Basement
You live in Minnesota. There's your problem.
I'm not sayin' anything.
Are you having fantasies right now, Stain? :eeew:
Just sayin' BS Scott...even gays say they have 'gay-dar'...:1orglaugh
So maybe you ought to check the radar signature reflecting off of you...I mean, you brought your problem to us..We're just trying to help you with the possible identity crisis happening in you life...:o
Listen, it's all joking with me...I suppose..:1orglaugh
But you had to know running here babbling about how good you look to gay guys and you're verging on having to beat them off of you..was going to sink you neck deep in shit here...right??:1orglaugh:1orglaugh
Right, because I'm sure you could "deal with me accordingly" don't even talk crap man, this is a forum and saying you could kick someone's ass on a forum from behind your computer is weakshit and it makes you look like even more of a douchebag.
Besides I don't even know what the hell your talking about in that reply, all I said was to ask yourself a question, but apparently you can't even comprehend that and you have to jump right away to "dealing with me"....please....get over yourself.
'zakly. So much hostility on this thread!
No, my problem is in general with people who stare, and some people's parents didn't apparently raise them appropriately enough to know staring is not appropriate behavior.
I'm not "on myself" to begin with, southerner. Please, stop with your self righteousness, it is quite pitiful.
Aside from these two, the hypocracy from some of the crabs that have posted in here is astonishing. I've never went out of my way to bash some of the gay stuff on here, but since I say I am irritated when dudes are starin' all you pussies get all bent out of shape. I've seen quite a few of the posters in this thread use some pretty hateful anti-gay epithets over my time here. Not that I care, just sayin'...hypocrites. Nothing but a bunch of fucking hypocrites I see posting here. :nono: :nono: :nono:
The Ballad of Faggot Hating James
James didn’t know much, but he knew he hated faggots.
Although he’d never met one, and had only heard tell of their fabulous deviations, acts of pleasures so exquisite that once experienced, one could never go back, it haunted him day and night.
For although he’d never met one, never had one “hit on him,” he had it up to here with their domination— his oppression was real.
But today it would all change. Today was the day James would beat him up a faggot.
He’d been scoping out the bar, the aptly titled "Ramrod" for a number of weeks, observing carefully the macho men in their leather gear, caps and droopy mustaches; the Adonis-like "twinks" in their stylish loafers, so virile, so inviting; the middle aged slobbards, pathetic, barely able to cull even the simplest favors from the lovely young boys they must inevitably drool over, getting drunker and drunker before returning to their sterile home lives and marriages; and the young, young hip club kids with their shocking piercings, cruising for anonymous transgressive sex in irresistible bathrooms.
Scoping for weeks, and now it was his time, his time to beat him up some faggots.
James crosses the street and makes for the bar.
The inside is dark and the music pulverizing. The flashing lights and constant buzz of migrating bodies throws him off.
He looks for a likely faggot to bash, but they all seem to be bigger and much more intimidating than he’s been led to expect. And the looks they give him as he staggers past... why does their disdain penetrate him more than any ram rod could!?
Like a hypothermic off the ice plains of hell collapsing before salvation's fire, James assaults the bar, to catch his balance and bearings.
Breathe, he thinks, breathe. Remember your mission. We are here to beat us up some faggots.
James signals the too hip bartender who, of course, ignores him, ignores him, ignores him until James is almost at the verge of tears.
These faggots have more power over him then he ever would have believed!
James is beside himself, unable to leave, and yet to survive he must have fortification.
“Double shot of Jack. No- two doubles!”
After an indignant pause, looking much put out, the bartender finally makes it so.
Downing one. James is starting to feel better, more confident. Downing the second and all is well. His mission is sure to be a success.
“Two more!” Really loud now, so the bartender, who shoots him a dirty look, can’t ignore it. James slaps two twenties on the bar as the drinks appear.
Slam! One more double down— he is a king!
Slam! The second double down and now he is a god!
After several more rounds, James is turly invincible, and it is air he stands on, not mere earth.
Time. It is Time.
James turns to a particularly large man on his left, bumping his shoulder forcefully.
“Giddum ferggit!” he slurs, taking a wild swing that misses by a mile, upsetting his balance and dropping James to the floor like a lead turd. As his head slams the floor he blacks out.
* * *
Pain. Pain. Stabbing light in his eyes. Stabbing light of the sun rising down the filthy, condom strewn alley.
Pounding head; it feels like James has daggers in his eyes. He struggles to get up but falls back flat on his face. Something wrong, his legs aren’t moving. He looks down with growing horror at the pants down around his ankles and torn away underwear.
With sinking dread he reaches around, such dread, such dread to his no longer virgin rectum, painfully sore, horribly torn.
Whether it the pain or the passage bringing tears to his eyes as he gazes at his hand, slick with blood and semen, he will never know.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” he howls with all the fury of the world!
* * *
Anger, anger, fueling his movements. Staggering home. Showering, cleaning the filth of his outraged cavity. And with each stinging passage of soap, his anger is stoke.
They would pay. The faggots would pay.
* * *
Evening. Outside the Ramrod. James, like a man on a crusade, strides across the street and into the bar.
Tonight he would beat him up a faggot like a faggot had never been beaten up before. Tonight was be his night of vindication. But first— fortification.
“Bartender!” He yells like a prophet of the lord, “Double shot of Jack and keep ‘em coming!”
James didn’t know much, but he knew he hated faggots.
Although he’d never met one, and had only heard tell of their fabulous deviations, acts of pleasures so exquisite that once experienced, one could never go back, it haunted him day and night.
For although he’d never met one, never had one “hit on him,” he had it up to here with their domination— his oppression was real.
But today it would all change. Today was the day James would beat him up a faggot.
He’d been scoping out the bar, the aptly titled "Ramrod" for a number of weeks, observing carefully the macho men in their leather gear, caps and droopy mustaches; the Adonis-like "twinks" in their stylish loafers, so virile, so inviting; the middle aged slobbards, pathetic, barely able to cull even the simplest favors from the lovely young boys they must inevitably drool over, getting drunker and drunker before returning to their sterile home lives and marriages; and the young, young hip club kids with their shocking piercings, cruising for anonymous transgressive sex in irresistible bathrooms.
Scoping for weeks, and now it was his time, his time to beat him up some faggots.
James crosses the street and makes for the bar.
The inside is dark and the music pulverizing. The flashing lights and constant buzz of migrating bodies throws him off.
He looks for a likely faggot to bash, but they all seem to be bigger and much more intimidating than he’s been led to expect. And the looks they give him as he staggers past... why does their disdain penetrate him more than any ram rod could!?
Like a hypothermic off the ice plains of hell collapsing before salvation's fire, James assaults the bar, to catch his balance and bearings.
Breathe, he thinks, breathe. Remember your mission. We are here to beat us up some faggots.
James signals the too hip bartender who, of course, ignores him, ignores him, ignores him until James is almost at the verge of tears.
These faggots have more power over him then he ever would have believed!
James is beside himself, unable to leave, and yet to survive he must have fortification.
“Double shot of Jack. No- two doubles!”
After an indignant pause, looking much put out, the bartender finally makes it so.
Downing one. James is starting to feel better, more confident. Downing the second and all is well. His mission is sure to be a success.
“Two more!” Really loud now, so the bartender, who shoots him a dirty look, can’t ignore it. James slaps two twenties on the bar as the drinks appear.
Slam! One more double down— he is a king!
Slam! The second double down and now he is a god!
After several more rounds, James is turly invincible, and it is air he stands on, not mere earth.
Time. It is Time.
James turns to a particularly large man on his left, bumping his shoulder forcefully.
“Giddum ferggit!” he slurs, taking a wild swing that misses by a mile, upsetting his balance and dropping James to the floor like a lead turd. As his head slams the floor he blacks out.
* * *
Pain. Pain. Stabbing light in his eyes. Stabbing light of the sun rising down the filthy, condom strewn alley.
Pounding head; it feels like James has daggers in his eyes. He struggles to get up but falls back flat on his face. Something wrong, his legs aren’t moving. He looks down with growing horror at the pants down around his ankles and torn away underwear.
With sinking dread he reaches around, such dread, such dread to his no longer virgin rectum, painfully sore, horribly torn.
Whether it the pain or the passage bringing tears to his eyes as he gazes at his hand, slick with blood and semen, he will never know.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” he howls with all the fury of the world!
* * *
Anger, anger, fueling his movements. Staggering home. Showering, cleaning the filth of his outraged cavity. And with each stinging passage of soap, his anger is stoke.
They would pay. The faggots would pay.
* * *
Evening. Outside the Ramrod. James, like a man on a crusade, strides across the street and into the bar.
Tonight he would beat him up a faggot like a faggot had never been beaten up before. Tonight was be his night of vindication. But first— fortification.
“Bartender!” He yells like a prophet of the lord, “Double shot of Jack and keep ‘em coming!”
I did, but I'm not letting up until he stops writing "I like to suck dicks" across his forehead with lipstick.
Honestly, that's you're problem, man...
If your problemis people in general, why did you single out gays in the title?
Don't you get it STD??? He's a good looking gay...errr guy and guys err gays keep gawking.:o
TheOrangeCat
AFK..being taken to the vet to get neutered.
Originally Posted by Ike Stain
It's true. In 90% of the world it's only the guy that takes the cock that is considered gay, so technically, you could get blown by every guy without crossing that line.
Hilarious .......:nanner:
It's true. In 90% of the world it's only the guy that takes the cock that is considered gay, so technically, you could get blown by every guy without crossing that line.
Hilarious .......:nanner: