Spit

Spit 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)

An Indian has a seat between two Pakistani's on board an airplane.

It's quite obvious to each of the three men where they are from. The Indian asks, "Pardon me gentleman, you wouldn't mind me sitting between you, do you? This is my seat, after all."

The Pakistanis look at each other, and then look back at him. One of them smiles and says, "Not at all! After all, Pakistanis and Indians are brothers! Are we not?"

The Indian is delighted at how warm and friendly they are, and he takes his seat. Shortly the plane takes off and the three guys are just chilling until the Indian says, "You know it's going to be a long ride and I am getting thirsty. Brothers, can I get any of you like a drink?" Then one of them says, "Yes brother, I would like a Coke!"

The Indian slips off his shoes and walks barefoot to where the stewardess is at, and when the Indian is out of view, one of the Pakistanis spits into his shoe. The Indian comes back and gives him a Coke.

Then the other Pakistani says, "You know what brother? I would also like a Coke too!" The Indian happily obliges, and as soon as he is out of view, he also spits in his shoe before the Indian gives him a Coke.

Finally, the Indian slips on his shoes and suddenly realizes how wet they are. He shakes his head and says, "Brothers! Why must we do this to each other, spitting in each other's shoes and peeing in each other's Cokes?"

POV them: What's one move to get a man motivated in bed?

Her: All you gotta give is that hawk tuah and spit on that thang, you get me?

Why did the rapper apologize to the sidewalk?

He didn’t mean to SPIT that hard.

As a straight son, one day I asked my mom, "Have you ever quit something that you did before?" My mom said, "No, I never quit anything." So I asked my when you give a blow job you ever spit, then my mom said, "What did I say? Quitters are for spitters."

What’s the difference between a pig and Maddie McCann?

Least a pig had an apple in its mouth when it was spit roasted.

  • 1

    • What do eating a watermelon, rolling a cigarette, and eating a hippie chick out have in common?

    Spit, spit, spit!

    Short girl: "How do you see up there?"

    Tall guy: "Who said that?"

    I spit my drink out and then ran away.

    "My friend and her boyfriend were kissing until she puts her tongue down his throat, and what happens next is really weird."

    The tongue gets stuck in his throat and starts to guh-guh-gughhh trying to get her tongue out of his throat, but it cumssssss out with spit all over his tongue, then they break up because he didn't want that to happen ever again...:/

    I'm gonna finally put a stop to the fucking drama. I saw people bullying other people for years; Gwen was not the only one. No longer will I put up with this. No longer will newcomers. For God's sake, just do jokes! Please! If you want to bully someone, do it in your family! You people don’t even know each other, but we're still going through this same fucking shit every fucking day! Just make jokes, people! That is why it’s called “Worst Jokes ever” not “Bully people forever.” So shut the hell up and get to joking! Jesus! The only reason why I came here was to spread jokes and kindness like Gwen and others, not to spread hate and foolishness from people who don’t even know better things to do but to hate on stupid strangers from different parts of the fucking world!!!

    “Addison, fuck off already, you're only 10 years old. What do you know?” I might be 10, but during my time here, the tragedies and horror I've experienced on this website have shaped me into someone more mature, able to share this wisdom. And if you're gonna laugh at me, spit in the face of me and my generous teachings, you will fall. I swear to God, I will make you wish you could never feel pain. But that would hurt me more than you. Please, stop the drama. That's all I ask. Together, we can make this website great again, like it once was.

    You look like a double dipped chocolate chip cliff flipped glazed charcoal slim jim Mr. clog hunch frap, no feet, 9 arms, 17 stomachs. You stepdad beat you with a wiffle ball bat. NBA Youngboy was in your bathroom spitting on you and now you got herpes on your left side cheek.

    I either added you because we have shit tons of mutuals, or 'cause I'd let you spit alcohol in my mouth.

    I'll let you decide.

    There's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, and takes the bottle. "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER!!!"