01-09-2018, 09:46 PM | #1 |
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WEEK V: CHAMP MATCH: Diablo vs Objective[DIABLO WINS 4-2]
Season 8 Verses are due SATURDAY at 11:59 Voting ends MONDAY at 11:59 Verses may not exceed 48 lines or 650 words Voting on 3 battles is required. Topic: http://www.netcees.org/showthread.php?t=126253 @Diablo vs @Objective Goodluck! Last edited by Inno; 01-17-2018 at 03:27 PM. |
01-10-2018, 09:40 AM | #2 |
Badgerdick
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There's Norway you'll win this faggot
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01-11-2018, 06:17 AM | #3 |
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If a faggot is your ''title belt'' I don't even want it, I was never one for band camp and those sorts of shit anyways.
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So deep into writing I'm concerned bout the text on my grave. www.youtube.com/watch?v=gV8ozGcGJ6o |
01-11-2018, 06:50 AM | #4 |
Badgerdick
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The sixties were in swing, and so were the couples who did the dirty ding-dong-dokie as doubles. With women showing their supple cleavage off for a reason as men motioned their muscles so as not to be beaten. The friends frolicking freely as they finished their food would wifeswap come the evening with the women they wooed. Our swingers salubriously toast "To sex!" while undeterred as once dinners consumed, they'll all get their just desserts. They gently shut the curtains from the crepuscular night before tentatively turning their attentions to the tryst. The men untether ties tossing trails of tweed to the floor as women set aside satin brassieres with their smalls. The dearly debauched dally at the hearth of the fire and concede to their corporeal cries of carnal desire. Some partners had prior arrangements where to wake and with who while others marvel admiringly before making their move. "Hey, are you new here?" smiled someone solemnly behind saving a smooth and sculpted hand for the bottom of his spine. The male nodded his reply while uncertain how to hide how astonished he was by the beauty he turned around to find. "Perfect!" prowled the pining philanderer, purring positively, while working down his ironed shirt with consummate ease. The curvy coquette careens her fingers to the base of his shaft determined to domineer the dolt and take him to task! She places her pallid lips at the point of his perineum tasting the tandoori tunnel then toying to tempt and tease him. He enjoys it with every easing of the enchantresses tongue while poising his pleasured penis to climax as he cums. The stallions stood sticky with sweat, unyielding as she yearns, but a lavishing lover like him couldn't leave her in the lurch! Party people of perversion have particular rules played the relieved must then return the wanton wish of the womb mate. The libertine looms labouring over her peerless physique then permits the mature matron to kneel on her knees. He seizes the squealing satyr as she's shuddering due to his penis proceeding to penetrate her puckering poopchute. The paramours pulling his pool cue back and potting the brown before he cums in the cute cougar as she hollers and howls. Suddenly they're stopped by a sound both rompanions recognise "Oh my god!" the astounded announcer stammers with surprise. The amorous admirers shoot each other their dirtiest look yet but both back up to be by the person they've upset. The swingers splurge that "It's just sex!" to diffuse the deed discovered but the girl in a grump gestures to the guy "...Mark, meet my mother!" Last edited by Diablo; 01-14-2018 at 10:35 AM. |
01-14-2018, 10:27 PM | #6 |
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An Objective birds eye view
The easel stroke of human folks is groping my existential anxiety, the simple notes of broken people coping shows my hatred for society. I'm privileged like Beauvoir's diary as my minds fierce and openly clear while I'm masking oblique fears with fake laughter climbing the stairs to sit down in these chairs drinking fine liquids, wine, whiskey and beers. I'm aware to see the social dynamics in peers silently disguising my tears dreading the thought that these queers hold the memoirs of ''my better years'', that my observations are met when I'm old with regret to applause and hear, hear's! That's the cause of what we're dealing with here - the monster that's gone by tomorrow but often appears: The old school couple with the dog shows that this image is life in a prism, halted by schism as her husband to the left battles with alcoholism. Stuck in the closet with a past dishonesty causes his wife unknowingly grew to respect it, it's what their minds are in debt with as she's chained to Harley Quinn's method. Something a certain someone foolishly wish that she had, (Hint, hint: it's the seemingly dreaming girl with the hat.) It's her oblivious prison and she's sane in the sense that her world isn't flat, yet she's scoping the group to the right at the dude standing uptight demanding his light. Solitude is his might so he construes an illusion to collude and flirts with a skank, it's crazy in sight as this slut's burden with fright takes emotions of hurt to the bank making sure it isn't heard or seen by her knight holding the cig that he wish was a pipe cus he's sick of his friends doing shit that ain't right, so he'll escape for the night before it turns to a fight, plus he prefers if the herd only yearned to be white. He don't mind his girl sending back vibes to the fabulous guy cus he's blocking the view to the cucks that he knew taking shots at the muse that just lost her own dude but they think that it's cute so they'll stink up a chute 'till she wish she was mute. The man with the bowler talks with the dreamer and told her she's an excellent speaker with evident features despite knowing there ain't a soul to control her bipolar and only the Devil would seek her. He has to seem eager cus his ex across the table has habits with ether; They broke up months ago although he hoped she'd grow to a keeper, but they're victims of love and even the dope-supplier is with her! That leaves us with the two at the top, the mysterious lot besides everyone knowing their ties with officials and don't get repercussions from tickets, they're so deep in politics they beat certain critics with deceiving facts that are in it guided by lies and tidbits of missed shit that leaves discussions with crickets. That's just the surface of misfits, sure I am curbed by this image concerned with my turn but the burn isn't my issues, it's just that I'm in it observing and learning my limits curved by the absurd portrayal of sinners that earned the title of winners idling dinners with ''pros'' Barish speakin' prophets mark as beginners. The stark contrast of bourgoise caskets entertain the dark values that's honest we perish to nourish the bargains of fairish bombardments of traits we harvest and cherish. Please be alarmed by this^ sentence, it scars my bars as I crave some repentance, if you read it I said it not to harm but I subconsciously relish in the fact you're not far from the entrance.
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I'm not a slave for entertainment, I'm entertainments personal slave,
So deep into writing I'm concerned bout the text on my grave. www.youtube.com/watch?v=gV8ozGcGJ6o |
01-15-2018, 04:49 PM | #7 | ||
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Quote:
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v"Diablo" |
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01-16-2018, 01:19 PM | #8 | |
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01-16-2018, 07:55 PM | #9 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
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01-16-2018, 11:12 PM | #10 | |
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01-17-2018, 09:53 AM | #11 | |
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01-17-2018, 03:28 PM | #12 |
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I got Diablo winning this will expand in this weeks mag.
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