teagles05
Youth Player
Football had always been my first drug from as early as I could remember
Posts: 265
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Post by teagles05 on Jun 23, 2015 14:04:52 GMT
I want him to come round to my squat with six heavies, who tie me up to the radiator. I fight and scream but it's all just an act, he knows this too but he carries on because he loves me. Once he's gagged me with a couple of used tampons he then proceeds to boot me in the bollocks for a full twenty minutes. After this they untie me and throw me down the stairs. I agonisingly stand up and spit blood in his face, and he backhands me, breaking my nose with a huge crack. We then do lots of really slobbery, tonguey French kissing before he cleans me up. We laugh and fall into each others' arms. I belt out my mating call (HORK HORK HORK) and crabwalk over to the bed while he recipocates with his (SCREE! SCREE! SCREE!) and we cease to be Bojan and Philip and become Bolip. I literally haven't stopped masturbating since you posted that, my hampton is now the same colour as the skin of a Babybel. I've not stopped laughing at this for about half an hour, two of the funniest things i've ever read on the internet, fair play both of you
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Post by watcher on Jun 23, 2015 17:54:46 GMT
You can sod konoplianka and every other transfer target as long as this lad comes back fit and plays all season!
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Post by adamsson on Jun 23, 2015 18:11:44 GMT
I'm waiting for Charlie Adam's video of what he's up to this summer. Found it
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Post by Bojan Mackey on Jun 23, 2015 19:33:56 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end.
I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek.
I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible.
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Post by scfcno1fan on Jun 23, 2015 19:40:24 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. Absolute gold.
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Post by foster on Jun 23, 2015 20:38:36 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. Absolute gold. The pillowcase is definitely a goer.
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Post by Stoke711 on Jun 23, 2015 20:44:46 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. Admin really need to post 18's and over only, we accept no responsibility as readers may require therapy to view this thread.
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Post by ohbottom on Jun 25, 2015 18:17:56 GMT
I'm waiting for Charlie Adam's video of what he's up to this summer.
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Post by Pretty Little Boother on Jun 25, 2015 22:05:31 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. I'd bury my dick so far in his ass that whoever pulled it out would be crowned the next King of England. I'd swirl my fingers around that chocolate tunnel of love like I was churning up paint, then with a sloppy pop I'd pull them out and draw lines on my face like I was Sitting Bull putting on warpaint. Then I'd dry it off with my nan's hairdryer, and flake it off into a neat little powdery pile and snort it all up with the nasal suction of John Halls. After that I'd pull back his foreskin so I could touch the tip of his glans with my nose, before pulling the foreskin back up over it, like a weary tramp pulling his sleeping bag up over his head.
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Post by meirparkpotter on Jun 25, 2015 23:32:16 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. I'd bury my dick so far in his ass that whoever pulled it out would be crowned the next King of England. I'd swirl my fingers around that chocolate tunnel of love like I was churning up paint, then with a sloppy pop I'd pull them out and draw lines on my face like I was Sitting Bull putting on warpaint. Then I'd dry it off with my nan's hairdryer, and flake it off into a neat little powdery pile and snort it all up with the nasal suction of John Halls. After that I'd pull back his foreskin so I could touch the tip of his glans with my nose, before pulling the foreskin back up over it, like a weary tramp pulling his sleeping bag up over his head. What the f#$* have I just read?!?
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Post by Stokyo on Jun 26, 2015 0:43:58 GMT
Stumbled into this thread looking for a bojan update, jesus, its like Fifty Shades of Gay Now i can apprecite that boyish cherub face and that body of an addonis as much as the next guy, but this is opening up a whole new world to me. lol
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Post by scottzbj on Jun 26, 2015 1:35:44 GMT
This morning I woke up screaming, the sort of animalistic, guttural wail that only a distressed animal can make, I flailed around like a discarded crisp packet in the breeze, trying to kickstart my lagging brain into registering what the fuck was going on, once I'd gained enough composure I glanced to my left, and saw Bojan squatting by the bed, wearing nothing but a tunic made out of ripped out pages of the TV Times, and in his hand was what was unmistakably a branding iron, with his face on one end. I looked into his eyes with fear and bewilderment, what had I done? Had I used his mug for my coffee last night by accident? Had I creased his briefs? I grew hysterical, an uncontrollable, sprawling mess of despair and psychosis, I thought it was over, until he placed his magnificent hand upon my quivering thigh, and simply said "No one else can have you" I looked at him with confusion, until he handed me a pocket mirror and beckoned his eyes downward, sure enough, in all it's glory, was his glorious face, etched into my left bum cheek. I could do nothing but hold him as I broke down in floods of tears again, this time from sheer elation and joy, he then stuffed my head into an empty pillowcase and told me "You have a 30 second headstart" I knew what he meant, so I shuffled out of the room and paced around the halls like a stoned ghost, awaiting my surprise, sure enough after what felt like decades I felt his hands cascading down my back, before he sends me to the floor with a perfectly executed kick, rips my trousers down and takes me like a worthless whore on the floor, it was incredible. I'd bury my dick so far in his ass that whoever pulled it out would be crowned the next King of England. I'd swirl my fingers around that chocolate tunnel of love like I was churning up paint, then with a sloppy pop I'd pull them out and draw lines on my face like I was Sitting Bull putting on warpaint. Then I'd dry it off with my nan's hairdryer, and flake it off into a neat little powdery pile and snort it all up with the nasal suction of John Halls. After that I'd pull back his foreskin so I could touch the tip of his glans with my nose, before pulling the foreskin back up over it, like a weary tramp pulling his sleeping bag up over his head. You guys have got this all wrong. Bojan is a gentlemen in the bedroom, a tender lover who puts his partner's pleasure before his own. Just two days ago, as I sat in my white silk bathrobe listening to a violin concerto and reading the latest collection of feminist short stories, little Bobo sauntered jauntily into the kitchen to make himself a prosciutto and rocket sandwich. Noticing that my bathrobe had slipped and that my legs were slightly akimbo, he placed a lace cushion on the flagstone tiles between my feet, kneeled down, and gently placed his tongue on my balls as softly as a butterfly landing on rose petal. Of course I exploded instantly, but not in the violent and extreme ways of the filth-mongers above. My torrent didn't stream forth like frothing rapids, rather, it trickled like a brook on a late spring morning. I swear I could smell the dew from the weeping grass and hear a Kingfisher calling as floor, cushion, and little Bobo's face slowly moistened. "Oh, are we out of artichokes?" he asked, as he returned to preparing his snack. I sighed and made my way on legs of jelly to the downstairs wetroom to hose myself down.
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Post by Stokyo on Jun 26, 2015 4:33:51 GMT
Bobo haha, brilliant.
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Post by clarkeda on Jul 1, 2015 13:52:06 GMT
Shaqiri, Bojan, arnie, oh.my.god.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2015 15:08:48 GMT
Shaqiri, Bojan, arnie, oh.my.god. Only one word for that. Stiffy.
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Post by clarkeda on Jul 1, 2015 15:53:52 GMT
Shaqiri, Bojan, arnie, oh.my.god. Only one word for that. Stiffy. Couldn't agree more. Such a feel good factor in the office, EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE is talking about it.
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Post by Clayton Wood on Jul 4, 2015 10:01:11 GMT
"I'll Be Stronger" The former Barcelona star admits he has had no summer break in order to regain full fitness ahead of the new football calendar and didn't rule out his chances of returning to action in the opening day clash against Liverpool.
He returned to the Potteries for the final day victory over Liverpool in May to an astounding reception before kick-off and the Spaniard says he was overwhelmed by the reaction of the City faithful.
"It was very special. They've given me a lot of love which has pushed me on in my rehabilitation," he added. Step forward Bojan Mackey
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Post by nott1 on Jul 4, 2015 15:05:05 GMT
I'd bury my dick so far in his ass that whoever pulled it out would be crowned the next King of England. I'd swirl my fingers around that chocolate tunnel of love like I was churning up paint, then with a sloppy pop I'd pull them out and draw lines on my face like I was Sitting Bull putting on warpaint. Then I'd dry it off with my nan's hairdryer, and flake it off into a neat little powdery pile and snort it all up with the nasal suction of John Halls. After that I'd pull back his foreskin so I could touch the tip of his glans with my nose, before pulling the foreskin back up over it, like a weary tramp pulling his sleeping bag up over his head. You guys have got this all wrong. Bojan is a gentlemen in the bedroom, a tender lover who puts his partner's pleasure before his own. Just two days ago, as I sat in my white silk bathrobe listening to a violin concerto and reading the latest collection of feminist short stories, little Bobo sauntered jauntily into the kitchen to make himself a prosciutto and rocket sandwich. Noticing that my bathrobe had slipped and that my legs were slightly akimbo, he placed a lace cushion on the flagstone tiles between my feet, kneeled down, and gently placed his tongue on my balls as softly as a butterfly landing on rose petal. Of course I exploded instantly, but not in the violent and extreme ways of the filth-mongers above. My torrent didn't stream forth like frothing rapids, rather, it trickled like a brook on a late spring morning. I swear I could smell the dew from the weeping grass and hear a Kingfisher calling as floor, cushion, and little Bobo's face slowly moistened. "Oh, are we out of artichokes?" he asked, as he returned to preparing his snack. I sighed and made my way on legs of jelly to the downstairs wetroom to hose myself down. You should be writing rom/coms.
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Post by ohbottom on Jul 4, 2015 15:52:40 GMT
"I'll Be Stronger" The former Barcelona star admits he has had no summer break in order to regain full fitness ahead of the new football calendar and didn't rule out his chances of returning to action in the opening day clash against Liverpool.
He returned to the Potteries for the final day victory over Liverpool in May to an astounding reception before kick-off and the Spaniard says he was overwhelmed by the reaction of the City faithful.
"It was very special. They've given me a lot of love which has pushed me on in my rehabilitation," he added. Step forward Bojan Mackey
If we needed proof that he reads this thread, there it is right there.....
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Post by Pretty Little Boother on Jul 4, 2015 16:04:06 GMT
I'd give him a Rusty Trombone right on the training pitch at CW. I'd lick my lips and purse them up, applying them sweetly to his ringpiece as I reached around to slide my hand up and down his shaft. Once he released his precious goo, I'd give a quick blow up his starfish for good luck; then take him by the hand and lead him to the boudoir for a hearty East Berlin Fruit Salad. For those not in the know, that's the non-sexual act of spooning in bed with a watermelon, six grapes and a kumquat. It realigns the chi and maximises intimacy. Once this was completed I'd pick his nose and eat his crows and bring him home to my mum for tagliatelle and Spy Kids 2 on DVD.
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Post by clarkeda on Jul 4, 2015 16:06:21 GMT
I really worry about some of the people I interact with on this message board!
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Post by Gods on Jul 4, 2015 16:10:22 GMT
Could we give this thread a more optimistic "Subject"? Each time it washes its way to the top of the board I shit myself
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Post by Silkystoke on Jul 4, 2015 16:14:57 GMT
Wow, I need a fag after that...!!!!!
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Post by pottermost on Jul 4, 2015 16:32:58 GMT
I really worry about some of the people I interact with on this message board! I hope you used a nodder!
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Post by stokey127 on Jul 4, 2015 19:50:00 GMT
You can sod konoplianka and every other transfer target as long as this lad comes back fit and plays all season! Good quote sod all the shit the transfer rumers have given us lets get Bojan back all season.
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Post by withnall on Jul 5, 2015 1:33:22 GMT
Having read the last few pages slowly, twice, my ballsack has tightened.
I am going to stand with legs apart on the kitchen table and get the missus to thwack me in the danglies with a steel wok.
A testicular enema.
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Post by Pretty Little Boother on Jul 11, 2015 14:20:39 GMT
It's like Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
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Post by clarkeda on Jul 11, 2015 16:06:39 GMT
It's like Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Looks like he's filled out even more.
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Post by ti on Jul 11, 2015 16:16:47 GMT
It's like Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Looks like he's filled out even more. Happily, not in a Jon Parkin kind of 'filled out' as well. Looking lean and strong. can't wait to see him play again.
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Post by wearestoke80 on Jul 11, 2015 17:59:07 GMT
It's like Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Pissing in the pool ?
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