How many women do you think schlurked it to the thought of you?
35 posts and 11 image replies omitted.>>72711015-20 tbh, probably more since I get massive tunnel vision when it comes to having a social life.
>>727277Same, most females are mid at best, or total hags.
>>727255What she say she liked about you, bro?
>>727239Good anon.
Good.
>>727110uhhh i think two. possibly three but i have no way of knowing
You know the thought of a woman flicking her bean to me sounds cool and all until I really start thinking about it. I've seen myself in the mirror and lived as myself and I gotta say there's not much there. At best I'm mid and at worst slovenly and gross. It makes a bit uncomfortable to think what be going through that woman's head. And I'm just talking about my looks lets not even get into my personality or the manner in which I live my life that would probably give a woman an instant ick. I can't really fathom what kind of woman would pleasure herself to me even though I do believe women have liked me. Or maybe they haven't and I'm just coping. Whatever the case it makes me uncomfortable.
Here we go, Blake approved
You let out a series of distinct meows, a soft "purr" following as you observe the merchant's reaction. He blinks, his spectacles nearly slipping down his nose, a perplexed expression replacing his usual shrewd gaze. He rubs his chin, clearly unsure how to respond to this unexpected display.
"A… a cat-like inquiry, then?" he finally manages, a slight furrow in his brow. "Well, I can't say I've ever had a customer communicate quite like that. As for tasks, there might be something, yes. Nothing too grand, mind you, but certainly something that could warrant a fine dagger." He leans closer, lowering his voice slightly. "The baker's cellar has been infested with oversized rats of late. Nasty things, gnawing on his flour sacks. He's a good man, but a bit squeamish."
>>727834Then, purr, to the squeamish lair of rats to me, purrrrr. It's time to take nasty hand on hand
You descend into the baker's cellar, your flail held ready. Three hulking, filth-matted rats, their eyes glinting malevolently in the gloom, turn to face you. Their teeth are bared, and their claws scrape against the stone as they prepare to defend their newfound lair. This is no ordinary vermin hunt.