kinell just came across this!!
why thank you. i didn't think it was that good.
poster origins
- Thread starter rimaldo
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why thank you. i didn't think it was that good.
giggsysgirl – born in cardiff in the early 1970’s, ryan always felt he was born in the wrong body. wiry, hairy with curly, pube like locks, giggsysgirl hated her man like appearance and wang. although a wing wizard, tormenting her pals as she ran rings round them in the park all day, giggsysgirl longed for the day she could be a real woman in front of her chums and swan around in flowing dresses, high heels and just be herself, the person she felt she was born to be. at weekends she’d sneak into her mum’s bedroom and try on each of her dresses and makeup whilst tucking her wang between her legs and pushing her moobs together with her hands, caressing her figure, just longing for child bearing hips and a substantial cleavage. the sordid double life of ryan. by day a man’s man, playing football and drinking beers. by night, a cross dressing lunatic who harboured a deep desire to be the woman he felt he was born to be. giggsysgirl, cross dressing dribbler.
ji sung park – born in korea in the 1980’s, ji was a troubled soul. forced into guerrilla combat by a lunatic father who still believed the american’s were attacking and still fighting communism. ji spent the entirety of his childhood scouring the jungles of korea and vietnam looking for yanks to capture and torture. for years and years he checked every tree, every bush and every hole for a yank settlement or an american scout, slowly being disillusioned by the fact no yank had yet been found. living on a diet of dogs and tree bark, park seemed to thrive. he could search the vast jungle for hours longer than his father due to an uncanny ability to be able to run all day in heavy army gear. at 16 ji had grown tired of his fruitless hunt for the american scum and left his father to continue his search for americans in vain and alone. he set out to make his own way in the world. work was hard to come by for a teenager with the only skills on his cv set out as “hunting for invisible people” and “run good long time”. ji had to live on the streets and dragged out a semblance of existence by hunting dogs for sustenance. the police were baffled by hoards of calls of upset families, searching for a lost dog after it was chased down for hours by a man who seemingly had three lungs. the police eventually managed to corner ji as he slept in a back alley and incarcerated him. they sent him away for medical analysis as his penchant for only eating dogs and running ability baffled them. scientific experiments on him concluded he had the stamina of three men and could run for 17 hours with little to no rest. it was discovered he could breathe through his skin and this was his secret to his uncanny stamina and lack of fatigue. ji sung park, vietcong no mad, amphibian like skin breather. runs a lot.
How on earth have I missed this thread until now?
It's brilliant
It's brilliant
Shouldn't that be "troubled seoul"?
i was tempted to go and edit it and claim that's how i'd originally put it but guessed you could see any attempted callous edit so decided against it.
Vida:
Dreams about Lost in his sleep.
Hurrrlleeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyy
Dreams about Lost in his sleep.
Hurrrlleeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyy
These are hilarious, keep 'em coming!
jezchan - originating from the french for "jezebel the french dog" born and raised on the outskirts of versailles it was inevitable that jez would grow up to smell of onions, garlic and cheese. whilst not a problem as he dwelt in the slums of france it became an issue as he would soon discover his smell and accent to be a source of ridicule as he traipsed to london to find a better way of life around a superior race of people. taunted form the moment his small boat made from garlic skins and cheese rinds washed up onto the shores of dover jez was soon an outcast. he was snorted and cackled at wherever he went and just longed for acceptance and someone to be close to. soon a restraining order was passed in the house of commons declaring that jezchan wouldn’t be allowed with 50 metres of any real people. real people being described as an human who was not jezchan. confined to a small shed on the outskirts of dover, jezchan gave up on life, gave up on ever having the basic needs of a human. a discarded porn mag was to be his inspiration. he flicked through the ads at the back and realised he could carve out some semblance of acceptance and normality by posing as a french, lady up for anything, on a sex chat line. “i av ze garlic stoffed oop my bottom” became his catchphrase and some say after 6 months in the job up to half the male population of dover had spooged whilst listening to his romance tongue. other’s that his french ways and penchant for arse loving footballers meant no one ever called. jezchan. french sex chat line worker. rectum shoving garlic crusher.
i want another one, rimmo.
i'll see what i can do. since it's you.
greedy
Its a fecking disgrace that you haven't made one for me yet, rimaldo.
Me, probably you longest and closest (geographically) internet friend.
Me, probably you longest and closest (geographically) internet friend.
i thought i'd already done you. so to speak. in fact i'm convinced of it. i either wrote it up and posted it or thought about it in my brain and decided i had done it already. rather than trawl back through the pages we have two choices. you can either acknowledge that i wrote one for you or i can think of something and make one now
I personally prefer the latter.
ok. i'll have a think and jot one down.
Yeah, me n all.
Not for me, you understand, but Giggsy read mine and was incensed.
He is all man.
1871_biscuit - born in the middle of the victorian period in gloomy reading, biscuit had a taste for the finer things in life. exoctic herbs, spices and teas, shipped in from the colonies. a dapper gent and all round nice guy as he swanned around palmer park in the late evening for his daily stroll, as is his want. it was the park that concealed his filthy secret. biscuit liked nothing more to be tea bagged by passersby. he'd crouch behind one of the trees next to the train line and wait with his mouth open and eyes shut periodically shouting "i say, i say! come hither and place ones balls in my mouth!". one by one the old people of reading queued to dip their nuts. biscuit felt alive. for months and months this practice continued until one day biscuit just didn't get the same buzz from it. he decided a good old fashioned tea bagging just wasn't enough to fulfil his dark soul and cravings of the flesh. he thought for ages about the art of tea bagging and what normally accompanied tea. then bingo. tea and a biscuit. the late night returns to palmer park continued as usual but this time with a difference, "i say, i say! come hither and place ones balls in my mouth then pinch a biscuit off in there for good measure sir!" and did they. the old wrinkly, prune like sacks would dip up and down as usual and after a quick tap on the buttocks from young biscuit they’d slide forward a couple of inches and curl one out into the waiting mouth of the old crumbly man where he’d gasp with delight as it hit his tongue and he’d dip it in and out of his oral cavity. just like a biscuit in a cup of tea. 1871_biscuit. old man fond of tea bagging and biscuits.
spoony - born in rome under the reign of gaius julius caesar, spoony was nothing more than a common thief. he'd lurk around the ceramic stalls on the markets of the aventine, searching for phallic shaped pottery and cutlery to five finger discount and walk off home menacingly with to shove up his back passage. spoony got away with these ill practices for many years until finally caught. a honey trap was set. the biggest, most beautiful wang shaped vase was left out over night with seemingly no one attending it. spoony's eyes lit up as he gazed on in wonder at the 5 foot spectacle of testicles. as soon as he laid his grubby hands on the shaft of the vase a group of roman guards pounced on him and dragged him away to the cells. spoony had the right of trail but this was all frivolous with 5 guards testaments claiming he rubbed the vase seductively before making eyes at an escape route. condemned to death via glorious gladiatorial battle, spoony was thrown to the lions where he was ripped limb from limb with veritable ease. some say if you return to the exact spot on the aventine at night you can still hear spoony calling out for his phallic shaped vase. can still hear the howls of delight as he caresses it and holds it close. spoony. phallic shaped vase lover.
giggsysgirl - an unfortunate typo. greggsysgirl is far more accurate yet her fingers were just too large to use her full figured keyboard. at 8.59 every morning you'll find giggsysgirl hunched over outside the locked front doors of your local greggs, claiming starvation and pleaing with them to open the doors to her treasure trove of pastry delights. no one is quite sure how she manages to be at every single greggs in the uk at precisely 8.59am but she manages it. when the doors open she runs inside and orders her usual breakfast of 5 cheese and onion pastries, 17 sausage rolls, 3 chicken and bacon sandwiches, 5 cornish pasties and 3 custard tarts. all this just about manages to scrape her through to elevenses where she orders the same again. in triplicate. lunch would soon follow as she'd crawl back into greggs on her last legs, claiming to know all too well of the suffers of third world poverty and hunger as her flailing limbs reach out for the counter. "126 chicken slices please" would slip out of her mouth with seemingly her last breath before malnutrition would send her into a slumber. as the pastry was wafted under her nose the greasy overtures would bring her round and she'd gorge herself senseless. pastry flying all over the on looking customers as she devoured her chickeny treats as if they may be her last. weighing a svelte 46 stone giggsygirl is now housebound and bedridden. she has a special system of ropes, pulleys and baskets that she orders the greggs workers to place food in as she winches it up to her bedroom window to continue her greggs based feasting. ending her 20 minutes of fasting since the last 30 sausage rolls were delivered. giggsysgirl. she loves her pastry.
Outstanding. You really should write some romance novels. i reckon you could make women orgasm just with your flow of words and artistic wordplay. Loved the local references also. Only a local would know Palmer Park is Readings finest dogging spot.
well it's bound to go better than any of my attempts to make them orgasm in the sack. i did one originally that had many references to the fine town that is reading but decided it might only make sense to you so changed it a bit.
ar, should have kept them in rimmy. Who cares if these feckers don't understand our colloquial language and our points of reference.
there weren't too many extra references. one about the time you were once found being humped along from outside punjab silk stores up to mr. cod. in an effort to get £1.25 for a portion of chips.
Do I dare ask....?
depends what for. i've got a spare 5 minutes but alas, no prophylactics.
fecking hell!! Should have kept that bit in. That bits quality.
You seem to know that area of Reading very well, former resident?
Quite a few caftards claim to have lived in that part of town.
Well, I was gonna ask for a poster origin to be written for me, but now you've got me intrigued...
Should have kept that bit in. That bits quality.
You seem to know that area of Reading very well, former resident?
Quite a few caftards claim to have lived in that part of town.
not quite resident no but only lived about 10-15 minute drive away from cemetery junction for nigh on 23 years of my existence and go to the oracle that way past royal berks every time i go shopping there. i was also born in royal berks. some say even conceived behind the bins of the burns ward as the fetid stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
oh yeah. i think i'm about to be laid. i told you it would happen one day mum. you never believed in me.
well i'll do my best to come up with a poster origin then we'll see about the other stuff i had in mind.
Jesus. I might have met you at some points. That is a chilling thought.....
23.. i could have sworn you are only 23ish now?
23.. i could have sworn you are only 23ish now?
haha. you would pass me as any ordinary person if we'd met previously. unless you'd encountered me by night of course.
yes i am 23 indeed. i am now only 20-25 minutes away from cemetery junction as of the last 6 months.
mrsgiggs - latin for "love struck teenager" for the majority of her teenage years mrsgiggs shut herself away in her bedroom and frigged herself senseless whilst gazing at the many posters of a welsh footballer that adorned her wall. she'd watch any match he was playing in avidly with her father, secretly concealing her wetness and lust for the twinkled toed valley dweller. every time he got on the ball she'd let out a squeal of delight and as regular as clockwork she'd go and give herself a good seeing to at half time. just dreaming about the dragon flagged magician. she’d bring herself to climax over and over again wishing the hairy taff was laying next to her, fulfilling her every sordid whim. as she grew older her attraction to him grew. she became a recluse and would spend most of her days shut away with her posters and mementos. as his career came towards it’s twilight years she was totally head over heels in love with him and thought about nothing and no one else. her longing to be with him consumed her. one day, she thought to herself, one day he’ll be mine. her dad had grown tired with her constant bedroom dwelling antics and he knew she was up here pleasuring herself for most of the day as the paper thin walls didn’t conceal her wet strumming and horny moans. he stormed up the stairs and banged so loudly on the door it’s hinges nearly gave way under the force. he bellowed “for feck sake, stop frigging yourself senseless to those fecking john hartson posters. get out there and get a real life and stop lusting over that ginger welshman” mrsgiggs has yet to leave her bedroom. mrsgiggs. love struck teenager, lusting over a ginger welshman.
I suppose so. I guess wearing trousers does somewhat hide your loose anal sphincter.
I always pictured you to be medium height, medium build with a musky skin colour, possibly of Spanish decent with dark brown half arsed styled hair. Maybe just a touch of brylcreem.
but... but... i thought you lived in Maidenhead..??See that could go straight in the book.
i am 6 foot 1, 13 and a half stone, slightly tanned in appearance, brown hair that's medium to longish, never normally brylcreamed. i have blue eyes and my favourite colour is red.
near maidenhead. just 20 mins along the a4 to reading. i could be at your house within the hour.
Ha. I was pretty close then.. scary..
Im going to guess...Kiln Green? or maybe Pinkneys Green? I could see that as being appealing to you when choosing where to live.
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