Pengii
Big Bend, Lubombo, Swaziland
Recent Activity
13.7 hrs on record
last played on Dec 31
94 hrs on record
last played on Dec 31
1.5 hrs on record
last played on Dec 30
Ogi Jun 7 @ 3:06am 
My Girlfriend told me I coom too much and that she doesn’t like it and idk what to do. For reference, I, 24M and my gf, 23F have been together for a year and frequently have seggs. I coom a lot, usually like 7-8 or more HARD ropes of coom depending on the orgasm, and my coomshots are consistently large. My gf has never been a big fan of coom, but recently it’s become an increasing issue leading to arguments and anger. We’ve tried cooming on a towel, but for any position where I’m not standing up having intercourse it still gets messy and chaotic and ruins the moment. It's so chaotic and my aim is SO bad and my ropes coomies are so big I can't hit a 2'x4' bath towel. She’s gotten to the point where she’s said if I can’t find a solution to my big loads she’ll take the dog and leave. Any and all advice appreciated.
♰ . nyx Apr 18 @ 3:31pm 
⠄⠄⠄⡠⢄⣒⣠⣤⣔⣒⠠⢀⠄⢀⠠⠐⠂⠉⠉⠁⠄⣒⡀⢄⠄⠄⠄
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⢃⠻⠛⠛⢉⠡⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠸⣷⣶⡾⠿⣇⠄⠘⣿⠄⠄⣾⣿⡿⠸
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Pengii Nov 4, 2024 @ 12:28pm 
:eaglederp: :luv: :eaglederp:
Ogi Nov 4, 2024 @ 12:22pm 
Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to come into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The come is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the come from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the come. The come accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The come is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect seemen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to come all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own come. The come accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the come begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the come is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with come instead of molasses. The come accelerates. It’s been two hours.
Ogi Nov 4, 2024 @ 12:22pm 
Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The come accelerates. You squeeze your dikku to stop the come, but it begins to leak out of your poopie hole instead. You let go. The force of the come tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews seemen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the come. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The come accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of come hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The come accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives
Ogi Nov 4, 2024 @ 12:22pm 
Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The come accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the come begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your come sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The come accelerates. The come begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of seemen. Astronomers begin calling you the “comemet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of comeshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.