Truth is stanger than fiction..
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Posted:Jul 16, 2015 9:12 am
Last Updated:Jul 16, 2015 3:19 pm
6373 Views
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Truth is stranger than fiction. This is a true story from an article which appeared in the Dublin Times about a bank robbery on March 2 a year ago.
Once inside the bank shortly after midnight, their efforts at disabling the security system got underway immediately. The robbers, who expected to find one or two large safes filled with cash & valuables, were surprised to See hundreds of smaller safes throughout the bank.
The robbers cracked the first safe's combination, and inside they found only a small bowl of vanilla pudding.
As recorded on the bank's audio tape system, one robber said, "At least we'll have a bit to eat."
The robbers opened up a second safe, and it also contained nothing but vanilla pudding. The process continued until all safes were opened.
They did not find one pound sterling, a diamond, or an ounce of gold.
Instead, all the safes contained covered bowls of pudding.
Disappointed, the robbers made a quiet exit, each leaving with nothing more than a queasy, uncomfortably full stomach. The newspaper headline read:
IRELAND'S LARGEST SPERM BANK ROBBED EARLY THIS MORNING...
And this was my friend’s comment when he sent me the story: "My brother just told me that there's a sperm bank in his neighborhood that pays $40 for a ."
"Yeah, so?"
"Don't you realize?" Phil cried. "I've let a fortune slip through my fingers!"
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My favorite cyber sex dialogue.. a must read
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Posted:Jul 13, 2015 8:33 am
Last Updated:Jul 14, 2015 8:13 am
6969 Views
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Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?
Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?
Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from WalMart. I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.
Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?
Wellhung: OK
Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table. I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.
Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.
Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.
Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.
Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm skin. I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.
Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.
Wellhung: I'll pay for it.
Sweetheart: Don't worry about it. I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.
Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?
Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.
Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!
Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.
Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.
Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.
Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.
Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute.
Sweetheart: What's the matter?
Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
Sweetheart: Are you OK?
Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
Sweetheart: Can I help?
Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.
Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.
Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.
Sweetheart: I'm on the bed aching for you.
Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?
Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
Wellhung: I found it.
Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.
Wellhung: Me too.
Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately - our naked bodies pressing each other.
\Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?
Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.
Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!
Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.
Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.
Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.
Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!
Sweetheart: What's the matter now?
Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.
Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.
Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in your...you know...woman' s thing.
Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.
Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!
Wellhung: I'm flaccid.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.
Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.
Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.
Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.
Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.
Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.
Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!
Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!
Sweetheart: (logged off)
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Waiting
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Posted:Jul 13, 2015 8:29 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
6063 Views
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A man was making love to his new wife. He whispered in her ear: "How many before me?" He waited and waited and she didn't answer. Finally, he whispered in her ear: "I am still waiting." To which she replied: "I am still counting."
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Shocking!!
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Posted:Jul 8, 2015 5:12 pm
Last Updated:Jul 13, 2015 7:56 am
6235 Views
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There was one night when a ton of , American disappeared. True story. If you want to know the rest of the story, message me.
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HAPPY FOURTH!!! DID YOU KNOW THIS?
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Posted:Jul 3, 2015 5:28 pm
Last Updated:Jul 7, 2015 8:00 am
6804 Views
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AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE NOT DECLARED ON JULY FOURTH The second of July and not the fourth should be celebrated as the anniversary of American independence. It is true that the Declaration of Independence was dated “July 4, 1776,” but independence itself had been declared two days earlier. All that happened on the fourth was the approval of the final draft of the document in a vote that was not even unanimous, despite the claim made in the opening of the declaration that it was; New York did not agree to the declaration until July 19. The signing of the document did not take place on the fourth, though many people believe it did. John Hancock and the secretary of the Congress did sign one copy of the declaration that day, but the official signing ceremony occurred on the second of August, with six members signing later, one not until 1781. On July 3, 1776, John Adams predicted in a letter to his wife that “the Second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival.” When this letter was published in the nineteenth century, an editor changed the date of the letter to July 5, and had Adams advising his wife that “the Fourth day of July, 1776” would be honored as the anniversary of U.S. independence.
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One-Night Stands with American History: Odd, Amusing, and Little-Known Incidents (Richard Shenkman and Kurt Reiger)
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Yes a true story
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Posted:Jun 29, 2015 8:26 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
6536 Views
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A true story out of San Francisco...
A man, wanting to rob a downtown Bank of America, walked into the branch & wrote "this iz a stikkup. Put all your muny in this bag."
While standing in line, waiting to give his note to the teller, he began to worry that someone had seen him write the note and might call the police before he reached the teller's window. So he left the Bank of America and crossed the street to Wells Fargo.
After waiting a few minutes in line, he handed his note to the Wells Fargo teller. She read it and surmising from his spelling errors that he wasn't the brightest light in the harbor, told him that she could not accept his stickup note because it was written on a Bank of America deposit slip and that he would either have to fill out a Wells Fargo deposit slip or go back to Bank of America.
Looking somewhat defeated, the man said, "OK" and left. He was arrested a few minutes later, as he was waiting in line back at Bank of America.
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Waterfall
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Posted:Jun 27, 2015 11:46 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
6088 Views
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Asshole
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Just wo more records and done with this.
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Posted:Jun 27, 2015 9:53 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
5974 Views
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Women hold the record for having the most orgasms. The biggest amount of orgasms enjoyed by a woman in 1 hour ever recorded is a ***** shattering 134! -- how many guys does it take to give 134? Or maybe it was self-service? Does that really count?
And thinking about guys, the average speed of a man's ejaculation is 28 miles (45.05 km) per hour. The average speed of a city bus is 25 miles (40.22 km) per hour. –Does that mean if he is riding on a city bus his sperm would shoot out at a combined 53 mph?
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That is record I will never break.
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Posted:Jun 26, 2015 7:56 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2015 12:16 pm
5838 Views
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The most ejaculatory orgasms ever recorded in 1 hour for a man is 16. – WOW. That is a record I do not think I will ever break.
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The male record for a gangbang
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Posted:Jun 25, 2015 8:27 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
5850 Views
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The male gangbang world record goes to porn actor Jon Dough who worked himself over 55 women in one day. He had 5 to 6 ejaculations. Actually, he was supposed to have had intercourse with at least 101 women, but he did the other 46 two weeks later – I assume the 5-6 ejaculations were per hour not in total.
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Record breaking gangbang
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Posted:Jun 24, 2015 2:37 pm
Last Updated:May 5, 2024 1:16 am
5685 Views
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The female gangbang world record is owned by a woman named Houston who had intercourse with 620 men in one day! A video was made of this historic event. As it took about 10 hours (with a few very brief breaks) to do it, the average time of intercourse was less than 58 seconds. – Can you image? 620 guys? Can you imagine walking along the street and seeing a line of men that wrapped around the block? “What’s the line for?” you ask. Gangbang. Can you imagine the woman? She started with a tight pussy. By the end you could drive a Smart car in there.
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Not all stories about sex turn out
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Posted:Jun 24, 2015 8:36 am
Last Updated:Jun 24, 2015 2:35 pm
5318 Views
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The Orange Juice Story -- Farnborough Air Show in London is the big air show which shares with Le Bourget in Paris every other year. One of my businesses is in the aerospace industry. The manufacturing facility is very large and is located in Tbilisi, Georgia (the country, not the state—formerly part of the Soviet Union). I traveled from Seattle to London, my Georgian partner and one of the top executives from the facility had come to London from Tbilisi. We had all eaten on the airplanes and decided we would have drinks and talk. It was a Sunday evening and off we went to Soho. The taxi driver recommended a place, dropped us there. We descended the stairs into a strip bar. Hadn’t been exactly what we had in mind, but “why not?”
We sat down, ordered orange juice, which is served in glasses, like water glasses. There is a stage, but nothing happening. There are a couple girls talking to customers, but nothing much going on there, either. We are happy to be sitting and talking. There is an attractive girl who walks over and asks if I will buy her a drink. I said, “Sure.” She sits down and orders orange juice and it comes with a little umbrella.
The strip show starts with a girl sliding down the slide and she begins to disrobe. It was bad. She was less than attractive and her body was not much to look at. We are not paying a lot of attention to the stripper.
We guys are still involved in our conversation, but every once in a while, my little hostess will ask a question, like “Where are you from?” “Why are you here?” “How long are you staying?” I am participating in both conversations, one with the girl and the other with my partners. My girl looks at my watch, and says, “Is that a Movado?” “Yes, it is.” After a while, she asks for another drink, I say, “Sure.” She sees my phone and asks where I got it. I told her it was a gift from the Director of the Aircraft Factory. He had gotten it in Dubai. She asked if I knew how much he had paid for it. I said, “Yes. $1,200.”
As all this is happening, I notice that other girls are staring at us and some of the men in the room are watching us.
We decide it is time to leave. I ask for the bill and when it comes, my eyes open wide. It is for over $3,600! I call the maitre ‘d over and ask him. I am sure he has made a mistake and added too many zeros. He says no. The price for the drinks the girl had are 1,000 pounds ($1,600)! He shows me the menu. I tell him, “No way!” He walks away and I am ready to walk out but he returns with a couple other guys. The maitre ‘d introduces one of the others as the manager. I said there had to be a mistake. He says that is the price and I had agreed to buy the girl (who has, by now, disappeared out of the room) drinks. By now the whole room is watching us.
One of my partners tugs on my jacket. He says to me, quietly, “These guys are talking in Russian. They are Polish mafia. We need to pay.” I stare at him. “No,” I say. He tells me it is true. I want to call for the bobbies, but I recognize and have heard the mafia stories. I pause for less than a minute to think about it. I am staring the Polish guy eye-to-eye. I know what we have to do, right?
The decision is easy. I am a lover, not a fighter. We pool all the money the three of us had. Offer that to the manager, who counts out about $2,100. Says that he will accept that.
We get up and leave. The only sex was me being “fucked” by the polish mafia.
So almost every time we are together, I am reminded of the orange juice story. Many of the men in Tbilisi and a number in the US know of the orange juice story. Now, you do, too.
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To link to this blog (senecaguy2) use [blog senecaguy2] in your messages.
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