|
|
2012-08-24
From: BluBlaDe (more)
Comments: I find legos to be sexually appealing
Rating: n/a
2012-07-31
From: Peter (more)
Comments: And yet no one did.
Rating: n/a
2012-07-31
From: Randy (more)
Comments: Why does maze look like it's made out of Legos? That's fucked up, if you ask me.
Rating: n/a
2012-05-16
From: Rain (more)
Comments: Not bad, not bad at all. prefer this one to the original as it had a bit more variety and more challenges
Rating:
2011-12-06
From: bluBlaDe (more)
Comments: No need to explain that shit you fucker. Anal =gay. That's all.
Rating: n/a
2011-09-22
From: Scott (more)
Comments: Reasons not to have anal sex with a prostitute: 1) it costs more. 2) it will be messy (remember, porn starlets give themselves enemas a few hours before hand; a prostitute won't). 3) prostitutes, while useful, are disease ridden and their anuses are certainly no exception. 4) anal sex greatly increases the odd of inadvertently fucking a transvestite; if you pay for pussy, you'll be looking for a pussy. End communication.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-27
From: Pickaxe (more)
Comments: Sit on my face slut!
Rating:
2011-08-27
From: Sam (more)
Comments: I wouldn't mess with some of the blokes here, Pickaxe. I had a row meself with Peter years ago and it ended quite badly, it did. I'll spare you most of the details, but suffice it to say that he got on a plane and flew from the States all the way to Blighty and could be found not two hours after landing raping me arse repeatedly. I should mention that I enjoy anal sex and being penetrated by another man specifically, but rape is very much a different matter and I found it all to be rather unpleasant. No reach-around was forthcoming.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-27
From: Pickaxe (more)
Comments: Frack you
Rating:
2011-08-26
From: Son of Sam? (more)
Comments: Impressive trolling, you pillow-biting limey dipshit.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-26
From: Peter (more)
Comments: Look, you know damn well that this isn't some online application for fucking Harvard. I'm sick and tired of you weirdos putting crazy shit on this website. The Master System was a very special thing and it deserves a certain amount of respect. This website, as a museum dedicated to the Master System, deserves respect as well. Maybe you've written legitimate reviews of all the games you had and now you don't want to leave the site because you have no where else to go. I'm sympathetic to that, I really am, but clean up your act, Paul.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-25
From: Paul (more)
Comments: It has come to my attention through various back channel means that there has been something of a whisper campaign against my being accepted into your prestigious if overrated university. If I have been told this in error, disregard the bulk of this message. If these rumors are indeed true, but you are still evaluating my application for admission in an earnest and impartial manner, then I need only remind you of my inescapable awesomeness when it comes to both academic and sexual matters, most of which I have expounded upon in earlier missives. If, however, the rumors are both true AND you have acted upon these base charges in a negative manner regarding myself I must that the you would have to be the most cowardly and worthless pieces-of-shit that this world has ever seen outside of Ayn Rand. After such an unreasonable slight, I can only suggest that you all choke to death on the very next cock you take into your mouth so you can speed yourselves to everlasting damnation and the horrible yet just fires of Hell in which people like you always end up. I cannot stress enough how truly vile and shiftless people you must be to throw away my promising career all for the sake of your own avarice. You may think that you have the power and ability to hold me back, to keep this planet's finite resources out of my grasp for just a few years longer but a man of my intellectual and inspirational powers cannot be forestalled by grasping wastrels such as yourselves. You are narrow and small. I am a giant, a colossus of mind and penis. Your pettiness has been your undoing and believe you me that I can unleash upon you destructive powers the likes of which this world has never seen. If you believe me now to be overstating my case, I assure you that that is true to an extent. It has become my habit to do so. But I am not completely impotent in this regard and can strike back at my enemies. I, too, have shown a willingness to do so in my young life. A trail of ruined lives lies in my wake, the lives of those who have had the gall to stand in my way, to stand in the way of human progress. My wrath has not been confined to the small, either, the shopkeepers, lunch ladies, postal carriers, paperboys, and the like. No, so too have sundry luminaries (in a relative sense, at least) fallen victim to my oft capricious wrath. Psychiatrists, pharmacists, teachers, semi-pro football players, and carpenters (like Jesus was) have all been made to pay for their insolence, made to pay for their crimes against me and against order itself. Do not think for one moment that you are safe from my rage; no ivory tower is high enough to escape my reach. This is all, of course, only on the condition of my being rejected for admission to your fine university. Otherwise, as I said towards the beginning of this nascent manifesto, please disregard the above scary, baseless threats. In the interest of further guaranteeing my acceptance into Harvard, I have taken the liberty of mailing to you (through so-called snail mail due to the size of the document) a copy of a high school paper I wrote analyzing the novel Wuthering Heights, a paper so uniquely penetrating that excerpts were published, unprecedentedly, in both the school newspaper and Penthouse Forum. Needless to say, the individual excerpts were different and I did have to see a counselor briefly upon its publication in the school newspaper, the editor of which was my first sexual partner and an easily manipulated she-nerd. Her position at the paper was sacrificed so that my genius and insight could be promulgated to the eager masses of shitheads at my school. I should mention that upon reading it, my English teacher saw fit to preform fellatio upon my person a then record three times over the course of the next two weeks. This, in turn, led to the publication of my second work, again by Penthouse Forum, entitled "Head of the Class". The title, inspired by the insipid eighties sitcom of the same name, led to a frivolous lawsuit initiated by me against NBC and the producers of that lame-ass show. While the case was thrown out with extreme prejudice and my lawyer was disbarred soon afterward, it should be pointed out in my defense that the kinda hot redhead chick in "Head of the Class" supposedly said one time that she would date black dudes. What kind of shit is that? Seriously? I know it was the Reagan era, but shit. Plus there's nothing better in terms of interracial porn than a super black guy fucking the holy shit out of some pale, redheaded chick. You think she would be more open-minded regarding that kind of thing with all of the prejudice towards ginger-haired fuckers such as herself, though I guess that is more pronounce in the UK than here. With regard to my English teacher performing oral sex on me, it continued until I handed in my admittedly incendiary book review of the Autobiography of Malcolm X. I consider this to be my finest work and perhaps something of a Bible for the post-racial world we are now starting to see emerge from the fog of our collective racist past. Salient, too, in the matter, is the fact that her husband had found out about her dalliance with my dangler and beat her up pretty bad and threatening to "cut" me. Understandably, this led me back into the arms of Cindy who, though deposed by the powers-that-be at the school newspaper, was still president of the school's moribund chess club which consisted, in its entirety, of me, her, and a kid that had whatever the hell Stephen Hawking has. His wheelchair didn't even have one of those robot-voiced talking things, so we'd just push him into a corner and fuck like hell right in that classroom. Exhilarating is the word for it. She like to do it standing doggy-style and man can you do that anywhere. She'd bark sometimes, too, and was totally into dirty talk. It was here in these formative days that I learned most affirmatively that plain, even homely, girls can be a great deal of fun. It's not like you have to tell your friends about them or actually be boyfriend and girlfriend. She lost a hand in Iraq, but I think a might give her a call and a ride for old times' sake before I head out your way. I was never much for handies, anyway. I'm sure that my wisdom concerning the debauching of unpopular girls in no revelation to older dorks such as yourselves, as I am sure your sexual lives are nothing beyond several awkward encounters with some girl you were playing Dungeons & Dragons with, with perhaps the occasional rich-nerd trophy wife thrown in for good measure. Congratulations, a hot chick fucks you once a year on your birthday. In closing, thank you for your obvious continued interest in my studying at your university, though I am certainly aware that such interest is hardly altruistic given the advantages that Harvard would accrue upon my acceptance there versus anywhere else. In closing, you may have notice my mother is conspicuous by her absence in this message. It seems that she was none too happy regarding her inclusion in my previous works and I have thus resolved to not include her or her whoring ways in this opus. It would seem that my dickhead brother's jealousy has again reared its ugly head and bitten me in the ass. He will be dealt with, I assure you. I await your answer, but be warned yet again: I am a resource coveted by many, that I am contacting you is because I wish it, not you.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-25
From: Paul (more)
Comments: Living as we do in the so-called information age, I am surprised that I have not heard back from you yet regarding my inevitable acceptance into your university. I say inevitable because you are by now well aware of my academic standing. My SAT scores were superlative, which is a word. As you know, a man of my intellectual capacity and accomplished has many academic suitors. I have sent similar applications to both Stanford University and the DeVry Institute, but I am waiting on your decision because Harvard is my first choice despite my almost pathological hatred of New England accents. Excuse then my haste and frustration at the matter, but it affects not only myself but my family. My mother has taken on quite a number of additional clients, or "Johns", in anticipation of the exorbitant tuition fees that you foist on a gullible public in a largely successful effort to create an image of exclusivity based on quality, a conspiratorial clusterfuck born of snootiness and pseudo-intellectualism which I was cautioned about by my professors at Riverside Community College, two of which I've had sex with. In closing, the world of higher education is at a place in history where it cannot afford to turn away brilliant students such as myself. My SAT scores, I may remind you, are superlative, which is a word. I was going to take the ACT until I found out about its primacy vis-a-vis Brigham Young University. I think we can agree that Mormonism is an abomination, despite the obvious correctness of its end-times worldview and the subservient role of woman. Not to mention the underage girls. Don't get me started on that, believe you me. Now, I'm a law-abiding man, but they aren't making fourteen year olds now the way they did back in my youth. The Mormon ones will let you jump them. I know because I had a friend that was a so-called "jack Mormon" who lived in the extreme west of Texas amongst an isolated separatist sect of Mormonism. I'll cut to the chase regarding that, but suffice it to say that we were all ass-deep in tight, young pussy that summer! Several got pregnant, I guess. I had a girlfriend in high school that had a toxic shock reaction to the latex in the condom that I had the foresight to use whilst fucking her. Needless to say, I have not made that mistake again. It was scary, man. Absolutely scary. My grades during high school and throughout my matriculation at Riverside Community College are, as you are well aware, not up to the usual standards of so pretentious a university as Harvard, but it should be obvious to anyone but a retarded girl that you finger-banged at a bus stop that someone of my intellectual gifts is often a victim of both being misunderstood and of the jealous of petty, small-minded faculty members that are jealous and small-minded regarding the meteoric rise (note: meteors don't rise) of a shooting star such as myself. Did you realize that a retarded girl cannot consent to sexual intercourse? It goes somewhat obviously without saying that I found this out the hard way. The girl just found out the hard, if you catch my drift. You should because it wasn't the least bit cryptic a comment, but you'll understand well that I have spent the better part of my life "dumbing things down" for those that don't have my gifts. Clarity of thought, mostly. In closing, I would like to reiterate that my mother is turning beaucoup tricks to support my academic career of unbridled excellence. She has have several abortions, something which I support her in getting and having the right to get at her demand. As mentioned in my essay, she is also disease free, if that has any bearing on the admissions process. My brother is clearly jealous of my success and has taken to ejaculating on me as I sleep, a most discomfiting new reality for me, I assure you, though it has given me a renewed appreciation for the sacrifices that my mother has made in furthering my almost messianic rise from nothing to genius. But this had to be obvious to you. I picture there being a lot of Asian girls there. They seem to have different public hair than white people. I can't explain it entirely, but it is different. Oh, yes, noticeably so. Anyway, I look forward to it tickling my nose. I must warn you, however, that this will be my last contact with you if my acceptance is not pending within an hour or so. This is the fabulous internet age, is it not. Perhaps I should not pressure you, for your decision is but a formality, whereas my decision is truly epoch-changing in its meaning for higher education and for America as a whole. Will it continue to be a shining beacon of freedom for all the world? Will it continue to be an island of liberty in an otherwise empty ocean of shitty countries full of brown people? You may answer this, but only I can truly answer this. My brother says that I am a fucking idiot, but he is merely overawed by my prowess. My mother is, even as I type this, giving her all in support of my career at the university or institute of my choice. I hope it is clear to all that a prostitutes life is not like that movie "Pretty Woman" with that horse-faced snatch Julia Roberts playing the hooker with the heart of gold archetype. My mother's life is one degrading sex act after another and she does this day in day out, penis in penis out, after another. That she has an unnatural fondness for penis is beside the point, that she was a prostitute before I was born is beside the point, that I am the bastard child of a turnip farmer is, perhaps, not beside the point if it is taken into consideration as part of the admissions process. My academic achievement have already been noted by me; it is my worldliness that I believe would most benefit your university of east coast dandies and bull-dyke feminists. I have had sex with dozens of women, mostly through Craigslist, including the aforementioned retarded girl that still writes me despite prohibitions against her doing so. It goes without saying, then, what kind of lover I can be if I put my mind to it and not just want to finish. In closing, you are certainly within your rights to turn the screw on my like this and keep me twisting in the wind in anticipation of my acceptance to your university, but it really is kind of a bitch move on your part. And believe you me as I tell you this, we bastards and whores know little of your upper crust ways, but we do know something of honor and decency. I'll have you know that my mother, the woman whose name you no doubt sully as a worthless cum-swallowing whore, is descend for no less than Varina Howell Davis, first lady of the Confederate States of America. Maybe that doesn't mean much to you or to me, but it means a fuck of a lot to a lot of hillbillies and white supremacists, both of whom I disavow any knowledge of. In closing, thank you for reading both my original essay and my stirring and cogent remarks contained within this message, wise words that you no doubt are convinced were insinuated directly into my brain by the Lord God. I assure you, this is not true. My your lives be as meaningful as my own.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-25
From: Paul (more)
Comments: Pac-Man is a little yellow ball that eats even smaller white balls for sustenance and career advancement. On a similar note, though not a yellow ball, my mother licks white balls for sustenance and career advancement. To be fair, she licks balls of many colors, not just white. My underwear often have stains in them. My mother, when not licking balls, will launder them with bleach to get the stains out. Some of the stains are brownish. Those are towards the seat of the underwear. Other stains, mostly in the frontal area or "crotch" of the underwear are yellowish. Yet other stains, also in the crotch area are a different shade of yellow, a fainter yellow. These stains are a product of me ejaculating. You see, some people are "come as you are" sort of people; I am a "cum where you are" person and I'm almost always in my underwear. My mom really only minds the brownish stains as she says they are a product of sloth, which is a sin. Perhaps true, I always say, but I am always quick to remind her that licking balls for money is also widely regarded as a moral transgression or "sin". At this she tells me to go fuck myself which I do leading to the pale white stains, the ones that can form a crust. Mom is certainly no stranger to these, as they are to be found on her clothes more often than on mine. Now, when I say "lick balls" I using that somewhat euphemistically, if not euphemistically then at least as some sort of shorthand for the wide variety of sexual services that my mother is willing to provide. Few of her customers would be satisfied merely by having their balls licked. No, not at all. Intercourse would seem to be the standard fare of any prostitute worth their salt. In this my mother proves to be no exception. She gets tested for AIDS bi-monthly to make sure she doesn't have AIDS, which is pretty much the only thing that an AIDS test is good at determining. She also gets tested for other STDs and has remained disease free throughout her career. Every time the test returns are negative she takes me and my brother out for pizza. Where she doesn't take me or my brother is in the mouth, ass, or pussy. It is a policy that she has not to service family and friends. I wonder if there is a dollar amount that would make her consider amending that policy, but this is merely out of curiosity because I have no sexual interest in my mother. My brother seems to, however, and my mother is always telling him that she is not about to start taking her work home with her, which is somewhat ironic in start she services all of her customers in our house or backyard. I guess she was speaking metaphorically. She is a good provider for her family. She also seems to be a pretty good prostitute despite having what several of her clients refer to as a "horse pussy". I take this to mean that her pussy is loose or big or capacious. I imagine that this is not uncommon among prostitutes because of the peculiar nature of their avocation. They use their pussies more often than most women and are often tasked with pushing the envelope. Anyway, I want to thank all of you for taking the time to read my admissions essay to Harvard. I hope I was provided with the right web address with which to submit it. We are poor despite my mother's long hours of sucking and fucking and I will need financial aid. Thank you again and I am going to get me a plane ticket to wherever the fuck Harvard is after I masturbate. Believe you me, I will also be masturbating in the aircraft's lavatory during the flight.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-06
From: Peter (more)
Comments: Hmm, I guess I misunderstood your clumsily worded question. No, I would not like to lick your butthole, too many rather dangerous bacteria involved. If you are up to sitting on my face, however, I would be more than happy to eat your sweet box as long as you play with my wee-wee as I do so.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-06
From: Peter (more)
Comments: That would be quite an accomplishment.
Rating: n/a
2011-08-06
From: Katie (more)
Comments: want me to sit on your face and lick my butthole?
Rating:
2011-08-05
From: Peter (more)
Comments: That must have been John McCain jabbing at the keyboard with his walker. Bitter old fool, how dare you unleash The World's Most Dangerous MILF upon us all!
Rating: n/a
2011-08-04
From: Peter (more)
Comments: No, Paul, he's calling you a fucking retard, that's what. You've got bigger worries than what some old video game ghost is saying. Did you see the stock market drop today? What if Obama isn't the Messiah? No, no, my faith in Him mustn't weaken.
Rating: n/a
2011-04-24
From: Paul (more)
Comments: What's that ghost saying in the top screen shot? Some manner of expletive, that's for sure. Perhaps something anti-semitics, Mel Gibson style. Probably calls Ms. Pacman "sugartits". Fucking ghost.
Rating:
2010-08-10
From: Henrieke (more)
Comments: It's an awesome game, it's even better than some pacman games that were released on the computer.
Rating:
2008-08-08
From: Dan (more)
Comments: Awesome. Simply awesome. I play the game A LOT, and you should play it to-*brick'd for sounding too cheery*
Rating:
