Describe this scene in your best prose.

Unattended Children Pitbull Club Shirt $21.68

The Kind of Tired That Sleep Won’t Fix Shirt $21.68

Unattended Children Pitbull Club Shirt $21.68

  1. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The gay boys gayly rode the train together

  2. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    I sat on the bus, headed to school. Tabitha was sleeping next to me. They say her dad rapes her. That explains why she was so tired; she probably didn’t sleep a wink last night. Even though she was a very pretty girl, folks used to make fun of her for it – “Tabitha gets touched by her dad, lalala!” But I didn't think any less of her for that; I mean, to be honest, it actually sort of turned me on.
    A sudden jolt in the bus snapped me out of a fantasy-land, and I was awakened to the fact that I really needed to shit. Like, really, really needed to shit. Which wouldn’t be a problem, because we had one of those big ass buses with toilets in ‘em… if it weren’t for the fact that Tabitha – the sleeping beauty – was blocking my exit to the aisle.
    Another jolt, and a squirt escaped my tight little butthole, painting the inside of my briefs. No biggie; I figured I could clean it in the sink at school. But if I didn’t manage to get to the bus’ toilet in time, then I’d fully shit myself, and there’d be no remedying that.
    Suddenly, I had an idea; my sleeping companion – being a human depositary for seminal fluids – also harboured the potential to accommodate my faecal matter. With a cautious glance to ensure that I wasn’t being watched, I stood up and pulled down the back of my briefs. Being already dirtied, the air was immediately filled with a pungent odour. It was too late to turn back down, however, and I proceeded to hover my bare buttocks over Tabitha, and then released a torrent of runny turds over her jean-clad lap. To my amazement – and relief – she remained fast asleep; furthermore, it seemed that nobody else had noticed.
    Sitting back down, heart pounding, I observed my work. A new, strange sensation began within my briefs – now, in the front, not the back. An idea, somehow even more insane and disgusting than the act I had just carried out, came into my head... With a trembling hand, I stuck my hand into the waistband of my pants, and pulled my erect penis out; using my other hand, I scooped a handful of fresh turd from Tabitha’s lap, and applied it to my bell-end like it were lubricant.
    I proceeded to stroke my wiener while staring deep into Tabitha’s face. Oh, you beautiful little angel! Oh, you wonderful, wonderful cherub! I became harder and harder, stroking faster and faster. Oh, Tabitha! You nasty little bawd; you filthy b***h! Oh! Oh! At last, I came; a ribbon of white cum spurted from the tip of my muddied wiener, spraying over Tabitha’s cheeks.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      “What’s that smell?” a girl two rows behind me yelled.
      “Ew, who farted?” someone else asked.
      “Twas I!” I announced, getting to my feet.
      The entire bus gasped in horror at the sight of me, with my filth-clad penis hanging bare, still dripping cum.
      “Twas I!” I repeated. “But twas not fart, but shit; no, twas not merely shit, but, in my view, twas lubricant, for the purpose of providing me with sexual satisfaction, as I jerked my wiener to the face of yonder Tabitha! Don’t look so afraid, my dear compatriots, for there is nothing to fear; nothing but fear itself! I ask you to join me in pursuit of sexual liberation, to release yourself from the heavy burdens laid upon our shoulders by wrinkled old bureaucrats, by our teachers, by our parents. Come, cum, join me!”
      With that, the bus erupted, as my fellow students ripped off pants and pulled up skirts and blouses. All manners of fluids were expelled and consumed, as the frenzied orgy spread through the bus’ rows like a maddening fever. I found myself hardening again, and now, instead of fear and trembling, I was filled with a bold desire to thrust my wiener into Tabitha’s abused snatch; and that I soon did, and she woke with a yelp of pain and surprise.
      “Why, Tabitha!” I exclaimed. “Is this not blood upon my wiener; I ask in earnest, for the shit and cum makes it hard to tell.”
      “Aye, tis blood.”
      “But I had thought thou to be an harlot.”
      “Those are but lies.”
      “Ah, but now thou shalt surely by an harlot, for thou will pleasure thyself upon my wiener gladly.”
      And with that, I jammed the entire length of my phallus into her.
      And we all lived happily ever after.

      • 1 month ago
        Anonymous

        https://i.imgur.com/KvaHt3L.jpeg

        I sat on the bus, headed to school. Tabitha was sleeping next to me. They say her dad rapes her. That explains why she was so tired; she probably didn’t sleep a wink last night. Even though she was a very pretty girl, folks used to make fun of her for it – “Tabitha gets touched by her dad, lalala!” But I didn't think any less of her for that; I mean, to be honest, it actually sort of turned me on.
        A sudden jolt in the bus snapped me out of a fantasy-land, and I was awakened to the fact that I really needed to shit. Like, really, really needed to shit. Which wouldn’t be a problem, because we had one of those big ass buses with toilets in ‘em… if it weren’t for the fact that Tabitha – the sleeping beauty – was blocking my exit to the aisle.
        Another jolt, and a squirt escaped my tight little butthole, painting the inside of my briefs. No biggie; I figured I could clean it in the sink at school. But if I didn’t manage to get to the bus’ toilet in time, then I’d fully shit myself, and there’d be no remedying that.
        Suddenly, I had an idea; my sleeping companion – being a human depositary for seminal fluids – also harboured the potential to accommodate my faecal matter. With a cautious glance to ensure that I wasn’t being watched, I stood up and pulled down the back of my briefs. Being already dirtied, the air was immediately filled with a pungent odour. It was too late to turn back down, however, and I proceeded to hover my bare buttocks over Tabitha, and then released a torrent of runny turds over her jean-clad lap. To my amazement – and relief – she remained fast asleep; furthermore, it seemed that nobody else had noticed.
        Sitting back down, heart pounding, I observed my work. A new, strange sensation began within my briefs – now, in the front, not the back. An idea, somehow even more insane and disgusting than the act I had just carried out, came into my head... With a trembling hand, I stuck my hand into the waistband of my pants, and pulled my erect penis out; using my other hand, I scooped a handful of fresh turd from Tabitha’s lap, and applied it to my bell-end like it were lubricant.
        I proceeded to stroke my wiener while staring deep into Tabitha’s face. Oh, you beautiful little angel! Oh, you wonderful, wonderful cherub! I became harder and harder, stroking faster and faster. Oh, Tabitha! You nasty little bawd; you filthy b***h! Oh! Oh! At last, I came; a ribbon of white cum spurted from the tip of my muddied wiener, spraying over Tabitha’s cheeks.

        >I ask you to join me in pursuit of sexual liberation, to release yourself from the heavy burdens laid upon our shoulders by wrinkled old bureaucrats, by our teachers, by our parents. Come, cum, join me!
        A pungent rebuke of the sexual liberation.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      “What’s that smell?” a girl two rows behind me yelled.
      “Ew, who farted?” someone else asked.
      “Twas I!” I announced, getting to my feet.
      The entire bus gasped in horror at the sight of me, with my filth-clad penis hanging bare, still dripping cum.
      “Twas I!” I repeated. “But twas not fart, but shit; no, twas not merely shit, but, in my view, twas lubricant, for the purpose of providing me with sexual satisfaction, as I jerked my wiener to the face of yonder Tabitha! Don’t look so afraid, my dear compatriots, for there is nothing to fear; nothing but fear itself! I ask you to join me in pursuit of sexual liberation, to release yourself from the heavy burdens laid upon our shoulders by wrinkled old bureaucrats, by our teachers, by our parents. Come, cum, join me!”
      With that, the bus erupted, as my fellow students ripped off pants and pulled up skirts and blouses. All manners of fluids were expelled and consumed, as the frenzied orgy spread through the bus’ rows like a maddening fever. I found myself hardening again, and now, instead of fear and trembling, I was filled with a bold desire to thrust my wiener into Tabitha’s abused snatch; and that I soon did, and she woke with a yelp of pain and surprise.
      “Why, Tabitha!” I exclaimed. “Is this not blood upon my wiener; I ask in earnest, for the shit and cum makes it hard to tell.”
      “Aye, tis blood.”
      “But I had thought thou to be an harlot.”
      “Those are but lies.”
      “Ah, but now thou shalt surely by an harlot, for thou will pleasure thyself upon my wiener gladly.”
      And with that, I jammed the entire length of my phallus into her.
      And we all lived happily ever after.

      Best itt

      • 1 month ago
        Anonymous

        Thanks, broski. Was first thing I've written in a year; felt very cathartic.

  3. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    "Cant believe I just shit myself while dis b***h holdin my hand. Aw frick. Aw frick rn yo fr fr. Da boys gon clown on me hardbody. How dis b***h not smellin it? Lmao she prolly moronic as hell. I kinda like dis b***h. Frickin moronic ass b***h.
    I think imma drop out of third grade. Get a job in the union. Make dis b***h my wife. Just gotta stop shittin myself"

  4. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    At two o'clock in the morning the Chinatown bus drove through a cool summer air, which was not breathed but instead in the window-closed bus, there came the smell of sweating bodies and cigarette smoke.

    She nuzzled her head upon the boy's neck, and he felt at once that he was home already. The headlights of the opposite land made shadows and light cast in ornate shapes through the still faces. And he felt its meaning most beautifully of all set on her.

    They had no money and youth were in its primes. Nothing had yet been lost in life and so it appeared to then a wide-open, hopeful thing.

    Over the earth, and past the unknown cities, to Manhattan the great metropolis where the destinies of millions came nearly upon one another yet held their own paths. Out of childhood, Washington DC, the smaller storied buildings, the place bounded by the beltway, the playpen of their youth, which lay behind them like a womb, and out from which they went with much excitement toward the higher, brighter things of dreams.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      A tad bit cliche, and certainly wanting of a good edit, but I appreciate the serious effort. Your imagery conveys a sensitivity for emotions, and your prose certainly provides a good structure to experience them.

      ong homie I bin waiting to see you pop off fr fr

  5. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    Arthur was so calm on the last day of his vacation to the Big City, he felt like his home in Kennabunkport Maine, the place he'd spent all his life, was on another planet. His new Bose headphones, which he bought for this trip and and paid a full two days wages as a deep-freeze protein imaging laboratory tech for, were so efficient at cancelling the noise of this Brooklyn bus that he barely heard the muffled whisper that outside his headphones sounded like "AYO WHAT U LOOKIN AT WHITE BOY"
    Arthur was shaken out of his trance by a 99 cent razor blade box cutter, stolen from Harbor Freight and now wielded by a man that broke an old woman's jaw while his agemates were taking the SAT. This man had never seen an image in his head or reflected on a problem with his internal voice, and now he had sliced the eyeball out of Arthur and broke the nose of his sleeping girlfriend.

    When the NYPD officer Julio took notes for this arrest (the attacker was found a block away shoplifting popsicles), he spelled out the words "HARBER FRAYT" on his notepad. Six months later at the trial, the attacker was sentenced to time served plus six months parole, as his court-appointed defense attorney Jocinta offered that her client was provoked by a clear, directed, provoking use of the n-word by young Arthur. The only witness she called was another passenger on the bus, who had been playing a slot machine game app on her phone during the attack, but was "Fairly certain" she had heard "that white boy call him a Black person".

    During his time on parole, the attacker broke into a ground-floor apartment and shot two 18 month old twins and their mother, leaving with a stolen cell phone and more popsicles. He lived for 60 years in a New York State correctional facility before dying of an accidental opioid overdoese.

  6. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    Hey I was just thinking about making a thread like this. It would be fun to see how creative the anons here are

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      They're very creative I see

  7. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The pair cliche'd clichely to their destination. The exaltation and distress of youth.

  8. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    "Why do you have to zip up your pants every time you get off that bus, Travis," Punchy said. I nearly fell off the childhood, aghast. "You got a pussy in that thing?" I coughed and gulped. "Hahahaha, nice one, Punchy", I said.

  9. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The boy's heart jumped as it pumped at a rapid speed. The girl's heart slowed to a steady rhythm that brought to mind safety. Anxious sweat trickled down from his brow to hers, cooling them both. She had dressed for cold weather, yet it was the boy who ran hot. The song coming from his headphones was not one of love. The song in his heart was. She heard it in her dreams.
    -------------------------------
    best I can do on short notice.

  10. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    She was average, with no style. Green hair, lower middle class taste in ‘fashion’. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her hand gently resting in his. It was all too pitiful, the through of him and her. Her family smelled odd, she didn’t read, she didn’t listen to music, she was perfectly boring and sleeping with bad pasture and her mouth ajar, a plethora of silver fillings demonstrated just how little she cared for herself. The hard thing was, he could tell she wanted it badly, sadly, he just did not feel the same. To let her down easy would be the nice thing to do. Tabitha was truly a miserable little thing, with nothing but a ‘quirky’ personality to make her stand out. The same pony tail every day. The same sweatshirt every day. No, it wasn’t to be and it was best not to allow this to go further in her mind.

    ‘Tabitha?’

    She looked up at him and smiled.

    ‘Do you think Stacey would date me?’

  11. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    I don't think a prose needs to be too wordy so here:
    The girl that sat next to him put her hand on top of his, and a rush of lovesickness came over him. He doesn't know who this girl was, or why she liked him so. With an awkward smiling face, he turn slowly to look at her—as it turned out, embarrassingly, she was just sleeping; her hand fell on to his unintentionally.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      I liked it. A clean style is always a challenge. For no other reason than the fact I've been reading Walter Savage Landor, here is your post in the style of a Landor poem:

      He felt the girl, who had two stops ago
      Sat at his side, drop on his hand her own;
      And with the touch a lovesick heat came on.
      He could not guess who this girl was, or why
      She liked him so, but turned his head because
      He thought she bid him turn, and conscious of
      His face, believed that she blushed too: he turned
      And saw her sleeping, slouched. She did not know
      Her fingers, while she slept, played soft on his.

      • 1 month ago
        Anonymous

        Thanks anon 😀
        And that poem was pleasant to read as well

  12. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The male juvenile primate is confused by the instincts triggered by the proximity of the female primate and as expected from a juvenile fails to complete the mating ritual. As he grows he will either defeat his rivals using intelligence, power displays or strength or he'll attach himself to a stronger male to perhaps one day steal 1-2 females and found his own tribe.

  13. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    Juck the Fews

    In a vessel of motion, amidst chatter's sway,
    Two souls in transit, in seats they lay.
    A lad with music, his cheeks a rosy hue,
    For a lass beside, in dreams she's ensue.

    His fingers tremble, touched by her hand,
    A silent caress in a transit's strand.
    Her slumber profound, a soft breath's sigh,
    A droplet of dreams, from her lips, defy.

    Through the jostle of journey, their moment unfolds,
    A tale untold in whispers it molds.
    In bus's rhythm, a love's shy dance,
    As fleeting as time, in a transient trance.

    Underneath the hum of wheels that spin,
    Their silent story, a journey within.
    A shy smile exchanged, in quiet bliss,
    In the transient embrace of a bus's kiss.

  14. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    I was riding home on a school bus when the bombs hit. To think, the innocence of youth, the pomise, the storms and delights of one's first microcosm, as it spreads the human landscape before one, so perfectly complete nothing will ever not fit into it. And apart from the cruelty I had to teach myself to both endure and apply with indifference, I feel that I was already quite the completed person in those days, the strengths and weaknesses of my character as obvious as they ever would be.
    I remember - how could anyone not remember every detail of where they were and what they did when it happened? - I remember the sticky, stagnant air of late summer trapped in a vehicle full of sweating kids, the motor hum felt with the whole body, a desperate-looking fly crawling across the window. The girl next to me, one Colleen, had fallen asleep while I had isolated myself with an audiobook, and was drooling like a moron, but she was cute in a plain way, and when her hand happened to lay down on mine, my imagination fled the narrated dreams and went indecent ways...
    And then the bombs bathed the world in piercing White.
    Ah, dear Colleen, where are you now? Irradiated to a flesh-pie of boils and burns, like millions? Or eking out the torment we came to call life, like thousands? Serving the hard, tough men of the wasteland for carnal amusement, nothing but their whim for protection?
    We could have experienced first love together, that bus ride could have been the seed of young happiness - instead it is ingrained as the mere circumstance I was in when the Burning happened.

  15. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The hum of the bus slowly faded as she slipped out of consciousness, inadvertently her head gently leaning onto the shoulder of the virgin sitting next to her. Mind you he was not just a virgin, he was a turbo-virgin. His lack of womanly experience would have been borderline impossible in any previous age but due to the contemporary advancements in technology, he managed to live 21 years with his only female interaction being his mother and pornography. He wouldn't dare turn his gaze, but he was completely focused on the sensation of her head on his shoulder. How soft it was, how gentle she was and her quiet snoring made him feel that particular emotion that women feel when they see cute puppies and men feel when they see cute women. But he felt a different emotion as well, lower in his crotch area, he felt something rising and then to his great horror a clench, through no effort of his own he ejaculated. The semen shot into his pants, a large dark spot appeared on his trousers, and panic took over him. His panic must of woken her because…

  16. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    Suddenly now,
    Isolation
    broken, but how
    I feel that the
    soft and sweet brush
    leaves me smitten.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      Ah nuts, I just realized it was a request for prose. Sorry about that, guys
      I'll be waiting for the hit squad

  17. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    I gotta take the asvab tomorrow morning thanks letting me blog cheers homie

    It's about forty minutes to my stop, and there's probably six or seven before mine. It's a real long line, goes from the biggest city of the south shore, crosses the Mercy bridge just before rush hour.
    There's a stop right before Mercy on Hochelaga Bd, and that's when this chick gets on. Never seen her before. She's like a ghost, totally dead. Driver gestures at her, she counts out the change exact, drops it in one at a time. One, two, three in a row. She fumbles the fourth, drops it, then makes it back up to ground level and finishes the job. Four all in a row. Face all red, she takes her ticket, rips it a little. She stumbles over to my bench, and sits down right next to me. Now I got a little better of a look at her. Something like a head smaller than me, slanted, brown, bagged eyes. Looked like she was on her way to school or something. She carried herself badly, all slumped, leaning forward. Not what I expected, I don't know. It's not so bad. When she sat down, I didn't say a word. She looked real tired, didn't look me in the eyes, didn't really look anywhere at all. Just looked glad to be on the bus.
    About twenty minutes through, we're stuck in bad traffic just at the end of Mercy, right up where you get onto the island. I saw little chunks of plastic, metal, glass, the further we went, the bigger the pieces were, go figure. Now as I'm checking out the scene of the wreck, I feel a presence get a little closer each second. Honestly, I was a bit scared to look back, so I ignore it, but it inches just a bit closer, closer yet. I'm laying my right arm on the bench, in the middle of the seats, and I feel a little warm thing drop right over my hand. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I jumped. Now, obviously, I have to look over. She's in dead sleep, totally silent, leaned over to my shoulder. A man thinks of what a woman smells like, he thinks she's gonna smell like a vanilla shampoo, you know, like a flower; her hair didn't smell like anything, but her breath smelled like tomato soup and grapes. Really not so bad. Like all the real, pure good things in my life, she dropped in out of nowhere, scared the shit out of me, but I settled in. Another ten minutes and she doesn't get up. My hands are chipped and beaten all to shit, cuts and burns sprayed with acetone and left to rot under a band-aid.. Her left hand is like a little mouse's paw, precious thing, no scarring, no hangnails, no gouges, all five fingers neatly tucked into a ball that rested on my hand. I never felt a heat like that in my life before then, I want to reject it, I'm afraid of it, a little ball of flame. But I keep my hand there.
    She starts to stir now, presses her hand a little further, digging into my skin a little bit, but I don't mind. She opens her eyes to meet mine. She backs up a little bit. She says it's her stop and hops up, and she leaves the bus, and I start to feel cold again.

  18. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    The music pouring in from the old headphones was a stagnant pond of bland melodies and predictable rhytms, a tasteless anticipation of the mashed potatoes I was going to have for lunch. Outside the window, the usual sight greeted me with indifference, an urban panorama not worthy of being deemed dystopic, now engulfed in the summer light. High in the sky, the sun was celebrating its victory over this town, could it not realize that there was nothing to win over here?
    She was the usual self, snoring the worries of life away with no further meaning on her reality. She used to always sleep in class, then on the bus; I could only guess her time at home was spent on a soft - or so I hoped - bed. The drool dropping on her pants was something out of those comedy shows that dad liked so much, but all of my focus was on her hand falling onto mine. "Blame the small seats" I say to myself, but surely there was enough space to move it elsewhere.

    And yet, in that stupid parody of a dream, I was gripped by a sense of anxiety and fear that, at the time, was still foreign to me. A sensation, of both brain and soul, that the moment was something which would impact the course of my life. I was right.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      Well done anon, that was nice to read

  19. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    Also describe this too in your best prose. Cuz I wanted to bump this thread a bit

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      Ah the thread is dead now. But here's one last prose to bump one last time:

      She was so comely in her kneeling posture, and doll-like; the basket on her lap was full of freshly picked mushrooms as well, because nature presented her with all its goodness—all what she wanted, or needed.

    • 1 month ago
      Anonymous

      A pair of fleshy little knees protruded from under the hem of the girl’s tawny skirt, as she knelt on the damp moss and grass of the forest floor. In her hand, she held a freshly plucked mushroom, which she sniffed tentatively, trying to decide whether or not it was worth adding to the basket. She had spent the afternoon collecting fungi, and the basket was almost at the point of overflowing.

      Tabitha – for that was her name – loved mushrooms; this was primarily for the fact that their form reminded her of her first love, David Potterson, who had thrust his very own little mushroom into her vulva just a year prior. With this memory returning to her, a little smile and a blush appeared on her face, and her green eyes flashing mischievously under her flowing mantle of raven-black hair.

      • 1 month ago
        Anonymous

        Over-used "little". Keep first little, remove second little, change third little to "subtle" perhaps.

        • 1 month ago
          Anonymous

          Yet you use the word "little" four times in a far shorter post, imagine criticizing someone else for something you're far more guilty of

          • 1 month ago
            Anonymous

            NTA but if you can't distinguish between the uses of "little" between the two posts then your IQ must be near moronation levels.

  20. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    “She had taken not only my innocence but also my will to escape. As I struggle internally with thoughts no young man should have, she moaned softly in my ear.”

  21. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    >Worldstar radioooo feet DJ Khalid
    Hums gently in the boys left ear. His right ear was rendered useless when he was victim of a violent assault that left him sans hearing in one ear and otherwise laid up in bed for three months allowing for the swelling to diminish and his broken leg to heal. This recollection causes him to look nervous and scared.
    >Who is this girl
    >Where am I? Is this a train? No.... Is this a bus!?
    He can feel his heart beating out of its cage, he's been here before. Well, maybe not here, but he's been in this situation alone, and he doesn't imagine this girl, wonderful as she is, would be of much help if this bus is anything like the last bus he rode. The attack that left him partially dead and fully nervous took place on a public bus. A pack of Blacks attacked him to steal his headphones. Where did he get new headphones, and why is he on this bus?
    >All I can think about is if the Black folk come for me I'll offer them this girl. She must not know my plan, and believe me to be her protector. I don't know her, but why does she know and trust me? Am I going insane?
    Thought the boy, as he slowly turned around, to determine the demographic makeup or this mobile prison.

  22. 1 month ago
    Anonymous

    A quiet bus ride in the snow, two kids together, going nowhere special.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *