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Mister Morals
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i met this girl who like really liked to like say like all the time. so i like shoved my schlong in her mouth, and then i juiced all over her face. then i screamed "i'm brett favre b*tch". she was like just sitting there and like had this very confused look on her face..... like a dumbfounded dipsh*t.

that ain't a cool post dude

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Just last night I had an occasion to employ the moralistic skills gleaned from our new member, Mr. Morals. As I was about to complete during an oral interlude with my wife, I thought about the lessons given all of us by Mr. Morals, and--rather than burdening her with a surprise DNA "gusher"--I alerted my spouse to the forthcoming (no pun intended) confluence of my man essence about to vividly herald the culmination of our sexual foray by fully coating her uvula. Thank you, Mr. Morals, for imparting upon me the necessary tools to put aside my selfish behavior, strengthen our already vigorous marital union, and allowing my wife not to be stressed by the involuntary triggering of her gag reflex.

Edited by Borgoguy
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Just last night I had an occasion to employ the moralistic skills gleaned from our new member, Mr. Morals. As I was about to complete during an oral interlude with my wife, I thought about the lessons given all of us by Mr. Morals, and--rather than burdening her with a surprise DNA "gusher"--I alerted my spouse to the forthcoming (no pun intended) confluence of my man essence about to vividly herald the culmination of our sexual foray by fully coating her uvula. Thank you, Mr. Morals, for imparting upon me the necessary tools to put aside my selfish behavior, strengthen our already vigorous marital union, and allowing my wife not to be stressed by the involuntary triggering of her gag reflex.

yeah but did you yell "i'm brett favre b*tch!"? believe me it makes it a hell of alot more fun.

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Just last night I had an occasion to employ the moralistic skills gleaned from our new member, Mr. Morals. As I was about to complete during an oral interlude with my wife, I thought about the lessons given all of us by Mr. Morals, and--rather than burdening her with a surprise DNA "gusher"--I alerted my spouse to the forthcoming (no pun intended) confluence of my man essence about to vividly herald the culmination of our sexual foray by fully coating her uvula. Thank you, Mr. Morals, for imparting upon me the necessary tools to put aside my selfish behavior, strengthen our already vigorous marital union, and allowing my wife not to be stressed by the involuntary triggering of her gag reflex.

Hello Borgoguy,

Although I am appalled that you have decided your bedroom is an open topic for conversation on this board, I will admit that your actions were moral.

I would like more background, however. If I were to make an assumption, it looks to me as if you have sent an unexpected "gusher" down the back of her throat previously. How did she react? Did she complain?

Complaining is not moral. It accomplishes nothing. She should have provided constructive feedback at the time and worked on a common ground gameplan with you to avoid such an event in the future. Perhaps, the gusher could have landed on the linen and you could take turns washing the sheets. Just a thought.

Regardless, it appears that things are working out....for now.

In the future, you won't even need to think of Mister Morals and ask "what would Mister Morals do?" It will become a natural reflex, much like the gagging when an unwanted gusher hits the windpipes.

Warm Regards,

Mister Morals

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I also told her that if I hear her use the word "like" in a sentence - unless it's supposed to be there - I WILL slap her. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, bugs me more than listening to the following from a 22 year old (actually, hearing it from an any-year old):

"I was like really excited because like I got exactly what I wanted but then I was like, do I really want it? And like, suddenly I was bummed. It was like weird. Like freaky."

teenagerslike.jpg

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A joke for Mr. Morals:

Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married.

She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all.

One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room.

She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. As she sat facing her old Hammond organ,

the young minister noticed a cute glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water,

and in the water floated, of all things, a condom!

When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat.

The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it

got the better of him and he could no longer resist.

'Miss Beatrice', he said, 'I wonder if you would tell me about this? 'Pointing to the bowl.

'Oh yes,' she replied, 'Isn't it wonderful?

I was walking through the Park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground.

The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease.

Do you know I haven't had the flu All winter.'

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