Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Where’s Waldouche?: Pear Edition
Somewhere in this lineup of tasty and firm Pear, I’ve carefully hidden a thumbsy Waldouche.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Hint for difficulty: He’s not Mr. Clean in the background.
And on a personal note: Ed Hardy on Ass Pear makes the Baby Buddha spittle.
I only found the sonofabitch because he dared to block a pear!
.
And yes, the Hardy bottoms must be removed, and she must be lightly spanked for the transgression. I will step up and administer the discipline. No, no, someone has to do it.
I call pink panties, second from the right… mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Testy McTestes. Is it working now?
I’d hit those.
Can’t get enough of the lovely ebony ass pair. Even with the Ed Hardy bikini, I would love to take her back to my rumpus room and raise a ruckus.
Leafy bamboo shoots rustled with the light, chlorine-tinged summer breeze. A passel of mountain bluebirds flapped their wings and chirped excitedly while their aimless defecation found purchase on a pair of empty beach towels. In the neighboring pool, small feculent bubbles rose from beneath the swim shorts of a heavily tattooed man grasping a Red Bull as he barked angrily at no one in particular. In the distance, a girl screamed for her daddy, drowning out the nervous giggles of several nubile teens as they provocatively posed their posteriors for a horny cameraman.
.
.
… but nothing would distract Cornelius as he looked away from the mirror and continued pissing against the wall of the cabana.
Ladie, please join me in my bunk. I have, ummm, somthing to show you.
What would John Largeman have done?
You can always tell the ladies who are down with a little girl-on-girl action. They’re the ones who will place their hand right over the asscrack, and not just on the hips. You can tell the ones who are REALLY into it because they have one or two fingers curled upwards, ready for penetration…
It looks like it’s 30 seconds away from “Where’s Waldouche’s Thumb: Ass Pear Addition”…
…and then on the count of three there was the mighty clap of a synchronized fart; it was the last thing a prone and ecstatic John Largeman heard as a mortal on this earth, as he lay waiting in a curled fecal position underneath the quivering ass shelf.
.
.
He awoke as Fecus McDoo, demi-god of flatus.
A passing Pfah thought “that’s too guttural a sound to be a flock of honking geese…”
that thumb had spent many hours in many asses before, but none in these pears.
okay the thumb has obviously douched it up with the Ed Hardy pear. but do i care? no. it’s Ed Hardy pear.
Harry and David always go to great ends to promote their famous Royal Riviera Pears.
yes
yes
the motor in the back of that honda wouldn’t power a leaf blower, but yes.
yes
hey douche, you can leave your hand there if you like, but when i get up to ramming speed i’m not responsible for injuries, pain and suffering, lost wages if applicable, and legal fees/
on a side note, mma has announced a largeman vs buffalo beast cage match at summer slam, my money is on the beast.
who can think about waldouche at a time like this? and i’ll tolerate the ed hardy on THAT pear
Aside from the Waldouche and Hardypear… I really really like this picture.. if only I could place my finger.. or whole palm… on the reason why.
I love pear! The only good thing about this Waldouche is that he isn’t throwen up da SHOCKA YO!!!!
I contend that there’s some serious Nottapears going on here…it takes more mudflap than this to get me into the Sir Mixalot zone
Buffalo girls, wontcha come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight,
Oh, Buffalo girls wontcha come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.
With this much asspear hanging out it’s a wonder FLYTEETH isn’t buzzing around for a sniff of TARMAL.
Kansan Waldouche reaffirms the re-wording of the state motto, “Ad astra per asspeara.”