Round

Round jokes

Jack opened his drying eyes, awoken by a piercing ray of sunlight shining through crooked blinds. A gentle smell wafted in from the corner of what his temporarily blinded eyes knew to be a dilapidated kitchen. It was the one good thing about his life, that smell. He closed his eyes once more and awaited his call.

“Jacky, breakfast time!” beckoned that oh-so-familiar girlish voice. “Oh, silly me, the handcuffs!”

The same footsteps he always heard, the only ones, tapped along the tile floor as each one of Jack’s limbs were freed from the cold metal that imprisoned them. He’d learned not to resist it, and the acceptance was blissful.

Jack slowly dragged himself to the kitchen table, still adjusting his eyes to the light. Moments later, a bowl was slid over to him by a hand he’d become all too familiar with. Oatmeal with little bits of dried apple mixed in. Even after four years, he still liked it.

“Thank you, Randy,” Jack muttered.

“Jill,” said the girl’s voice across from him. The girl’s voice vanished.

“You call me Randy when I’m having my way with you, boy. Understood?” said the balding, sweat-stained man from whom Jill’s voice came.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now hurry up and eat your food. I want to have some more fun before you expire.”

Jack ate obediently, but deep down he grew concerned. Expired? What could Randy mean by...expired?

He thought back to the day everything went wrong. The day he was deceived. His 14th birthday.

Four years...already? Was Jack really about to be an adult? Then expired means...

Jack stood up quickly, hitting his knees on the table with a thud.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Which one?”

“The one you don’t like to watch,” Jack replied. Randy waved him away dismissively.

Jack paced around the small shack searching for the bathroom door. He passed the heavily locked front door, each lock a memento of his past escape attempts. Finally, he entered the bathroom. No lock, he had to be fast.

Jack searched desperately around the room for anything he could use. If this was his last round before Randy was through with him, it might be his only chance to escape. He opened drawers, scrounged through cupboards, scoured every inch of the floor, but found a small mirror.

“Almost done, Jacky?” called the voice of Jill. “Don’t keep daddy waiting.” grumbled Randy.

Startled, Jack lost his grip on the mirror. Jack froze the second it fell to the floor and shattered.

“Shit...shit!” he whispered sharply, trying to brush the mess away. In doing so, he found a shard large enough to be held. “This’ll have to do...”

Jack slid the shard in his pocket and returned to the living room he had woken up in. The same old deflated mattress was still there, iron bars and all. Randy lay sprawled across it, a pink lace bra covering his hairy chest, matching panties withholding his dense, greasy bush. His waist had grown so fat they hardly fit, until...

SNAP!

The panties seemed to vanish as the waistband broke, springing his embarrassing, already erect penis from side to side.

“Oopsies,” he cooed.

Jack took off his clothes, as was the ritual, and laid them at the foot of the mattress. His sore knees pressed into the stained fabric while he inched closer to Randy’s pulsating cock. Licking his lips, Jack bent down and took the member into his mouth. Randy groaned with pleasure as Jack’s tongue swirled around his tip, diving into the lining of his foreskin to gather what curds of smegma were present. Jack’s nausea at this had vanished long ago, he was merely going through the motions before enacting his plan.

As he throated Randy’s dick over and over again, the man who had trapped Jack for so long began to thrust upward into his mouth, lightly scratching his face with the overgrown pubes that lined the base of his cock. Jack wiggled his tongue in Randy’s urethra, just how he liked it. Anything to get this over with quicker.

“Ungh, fuck...don’t stop Jack, you dirty little whore...I’m so close,” Randy moaned.

Jack sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, all while his hand slowly inched toward the makeshift blade in his pants behind him. With the weapon in hand, Jack gave it everything he had.

“MMMPH FUCK YES, CMON BABY GIVE IT TO ME! OH JACK, OH, OH FUCK, I’M G-GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” screamed Randy, closing his eyes tightly.

He threw his head back and Jack took his chance. With one fell swoop of the glass shard, he sliced Randy’s dick clean off, spitting the half of it still in his mouth out. Jack lunged at the injured Randy, glass still in hand.

“AAARRGGHHHHHH, FUCK! HAAH...FUCK!” Randy cried, semen oozing out of his bloody stump of a penis. He opened his eyes just as Jack thrust the blade straight into his right one, then his left. Left weak from the orgasm, Randy could hardly fight back.

(To be continued in comments)

My sister's boyfriend was coming around for Christmas Day. He had the option of two birds to tuck into: Turkey or Goose.

I said, "Are you not satisfied with my sister, who is literally handing herself on a plate to you?!"

I was literally cradlesnatched as a child.

Yeah, in the arms of an older woman experiencing my first rounds of motorboating.

Comic: God, you're a fuckin' virgin, aren't you?!

Gerald: No! I've been 'round the block loads of times; women practically drool over me.

Comic: Yeah, and the Archbishop of Banterbury, mate. A name like Gerald, and with added 'four eyes' like them shit pair of glasses from FOUR EYED SPECCY INSTITUTION, mate, the only woman your dick has been in was when you were inside your mom's womb.

Dog toys are getting out of control.

My mum's dog has a round bison bone.

Looks like he was chewing on Tracy Latimer's hip or something.

"Pull down your pants, pull out my willy, stir your guts round like a hot bowl of chili."

Hey, I just want to give a round of applause to Shooter McFly, single-handedly keeping the jokes section alive. Unappreciated, well, Shooter, one person here appreciates you, at least.

Who would win in a fight, in a boxing ring? Mike Tyson or Helen Keller with a Tommy gun?

Mike Tyson. Helen Keller never heard the bell.

A blonde starts a new job at a local car dealership when a wealthy gentleman comes in looking for a spacious car for his large family. The blonde is excited as she gets commission, so eagerly shows him the most expensive SUVs.

The gentleman has a good look around before saying to the blonde, "It looks perfect.... But cargo space?" To which she instantly replied, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, car only for road."

In the heart of a circular, creamy delight, there exists a void, a singular absence that adds to its charm. This hollow space, a perfect round, is a testament to the artistry of nature and man's culinary skills.

The hole, a silent observer, bears witness to the transformation of the substance around it, from a liquid state to a firm, yet supple form. It's a silent testament to the passage of time, a symbol of patience and the magic of fermentation.

The void, despite its emptiness, contributes to the overall aesthetic, making the slice a visual treat. It's a playful peek-a-boo with the world beyond, a window that adds mystery and intrigue.

In the end, the hole is not just a void, but a character in the story of this culinary masterpiece, a silent protagonist that adds depth and character to the narrative. It's a testament to the beauty of imperfection, a celebration of the unique and the unconventional.

A duck walks into a bar and buys everyone a round. He tells the bartender, “Put it on my bill.”

Your hairline is so wonky, "Wheels on the Bus" goes round and round on your hairline.

I can't believe this!

Pizza is round and it comes in a square box, and you cut it into a triangle.