A guy and his manager go down to the docks. The manager is betting every docker he sees that his guy can make love to 100 women in a row, without pausing, and satisfy them all. Bets are made, and they agree that they’ll meet the next day.
The next day, 100 women are lined up along the dock . The guy drops his pants and starts. True to his word, he moves from one to the next, satisfying each one without pausing: 1.. 2.. 3.. on and on he goes: 49.. 50.. 51.. He slows down somewhat: 83…. 84…. 85…. but he is still moving from one to the next, and the women are still satisfied: 97………… 98…………. 99……………. and before he can get to the last woman, he has a heart attack and dies.
The manager scratches his head in puzzlement and says, “I don’t understand it! It went perfectly well at practice this morning!”
After the lavish wedding reception, the newlyweds retired to their Honeymoon Suite. The groom turned down the lights and found some nice CDs to stack on the player. Then he excused himself and returned in pajamas and robe. He opened a bottle of champagne and poured them each a drink, unaware that his new bride had already had more than enuff to drink. Finally, he took the girl of his dreams, whom he had wed after a whirl-wind courtship, by the hand and tenderly began to lead her towards the bedroom.
“Damn!” she muttered, “every stinking time I go out with a guy it always ends up the same way.”
Q: What happened to the Pope when he went to Mount Olive?
A: Popeye almost killed him!
An ode to the cut
that never heals.
The more you touch it
the better it feels.
You can rub it and scrub it
and brush it like hell.
But you will never get rid
of that damn cod fish smell.
Mary went to Jill’s place to tell her about a horrible experience she’d
had the previous night with this bloke she brought home.
“Well, what happened when you got there?” Jill asked
“The bastard called me a slut!” Mary said.
“And what did you do then?” Jill asked, shocked.
“I told him to get the fuck out of my bedroom and take his eight
mates with him!” Mary said.