Ohhhhh Hawwwwwwwgie......

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I don't know, but much more of this and we'll all be blind.. BLIND I TELL YOU!!!
 
I've contacted a few people and have received confirmation on the following "official" sponsers

Miller Lite - for the referees
Dodge Ram - Is that a hemi?
Monistat - there is bound to be some mud going where it doesn't belong
Gillette - smooth shaves will prevent the muddy klingons from attending
Viagra - does this really need an explaination
Mt. Dew - Do the dew baby
Nike - Just do it!
 
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...


I'm much more lithe than this fleshy babe, but I'll take what I can get at this point.





to be continued..........



LMFAO moebius. Just don't get the keyboard all sticky now:thumb:


Besides, we've only just begun!
 
And here is Hawg (sorry for my poor rushed at work skills, but hey, nice jugs, Wyo. ;))
 
Hawg is mometarily stunned by the sight of the number 17 jersey and tries to read the name across the shoulders, but it is so mud-caked that it appears to say "Lossman" (two s's). He won't be satisfied until that jersey is also removed.

He is even more stunned by the sneaky move that the petite, yet powerful, pugilist is pulling as she inches closer and closer to his Tom Brady tattoo.

Torn between his primitive cravings and the need to overWYOelm his opponent, he reaches down deep for his 2nd best finishing move - the much feared "Hawghammer" which involves a complex blend of gymnastics, Andre the Giant-like power and a hefty dose of pure evil.

He applies the move and feels his opponent's muscles grow limp beneath the submission hold and he gives a mighty roar as she begins to sink slowly beneath the surface of the almost BOILING mud.

When all of a sudden.......
 
She screams, you MOORMAN... don't you even KNOW the correct NUMBER for the future FROTTEURIST of the BILLS franchise is #7, not 17???

Not unlike a former petite QB for the BILLS and legendary NE Frootie Man.....


Now she realiZes the opponent's level of ignorance. Her passion ignites an explosion of adrenaline within her as she summons all of her strength to come up out of the goo.

She lurches forward to grab his manhood when she's blinded by......














to be continued.....
 
I knew that camera flash would come in handy ;)

"Get 'er done Hawwwwggg!"
 
I really like this post....


wyobilzfan said:
She screams, you MOORMAN... don't you even KNOW the correct NUMBER for the future FROTTEURIST of the BILLS franchise is #7, not 17???

Not unlike a former petite QB for the BILLS and legendary NE Frootie Man.....


Now she realiZes the opponent's level of ignorance. Her passion ignites an explosion of adrenaline within her as she summons all of her strength to come up out of the goo.

She lurches forward to grab his manhood when she's blinded by......














to be continued.....
Click to expand...
 
Suddenly and inexplicably, in the middle of this amazing match set in the Razor, a Yankees Suck chant erupts.

For a brief moment the Mighty Wyo is distracted as she swears she sees Derek Jeter joining in the chanting.
 
Hawg is frightened and confused by this sudden turn of events.

Somehow the slippery hellcat had escaped the certain doom of the Hawghammer and all because he didn't know the proper number of a guy that has never seen the field.

In a flash, he realizes that this mistake might end up to his benefit as the queen of the trollies latches onto his turgid manhood so hard that his Tom Brady tattoo actually squinted.

Hawg steeled himself for the sure pleasure bound to follow, but to his shock and amazement, the mud-slathered, writhing hash-mark harpie had snuck out her patented "inverted heat-seeking missle manuever" and soon a giant sucking sound was heard throughout Gillette Stadium as she lifted his entire body out of the scented muck by his now throbbing (literally) codpiece with a loud "SCHLUURRRRRRPPPP".

Soon, she had her former cyberspace buddie whirling like a lasso over her head as the vortex created by his spinning body started drawing up chunks of mud in a dark brown version of a waterspout which spiraled above his spinning body as he orbited the squared circle.

From Hawg's perspective, he could see the pops of flashbulbs dance like fireflies in his field of vision as with each rotation he could feel the respect of the Planet membership growing fainter and fainter.

His mind flashed back to a hot summer day at Paragon Park, where his stomach had rebelled at a similar treatment on the Tilt-a-Whirl after eating a nasty candy apple and he feared that he might not survive another dozen seconds of this fiendish centrifuge.

Fortunately, just before his dizziness turned into technicolor, the now-whooping wonder-woman released her firm grasp and she sent him spinning through space and headed in the general direction of the 10th row.

Before Hawg could make his crash-landing in the top dollar seats, however, his momentum was stopped hard by an unexpected force.

His frisbee-like revolutions had been intercepted by a mysterious 3rd person who had jumped to the ring apron at the last second.

Hawg's wildly reeling brain spun like a top, but as it began to slow his field of vision cleared just long to make out the facial features of his interceptor.

That person was none other than.........


DCHESTER!!!!!!!!
 
And NOTHING pleases the wyo more than a THREESOME, as she hurls the Hawgman around with glee...

Dchester................ the next victim. But wait. She's not anywhere CLOSE to being done with Hawgie just yet. She tosses some mud in dchester's eyes long enough to let her finish the task at hand.


She hangs onto Hawg's manhood until that squint in Brady's orbs suddenly turn into a eyeball popping, bloodshot look of horror..... a boatload of Viagra won't sustain the grip she has on his vital organs, and she continues to manuever around the rest of her body as he lowers himself into the muddy abyss.....






to be continued..........
 
The Message Board Rating Administration has rated this thread as
LR-17. Lubrication Required.
 
Ding....Ding....

And hawg as they say is saved by the bell as 4 pats cheer leaders cum running into the mud pit to drag a worn and tired hawg back to his corner for a quick sponge bath. So there sitting in a hot tub built for 12 is 20 of the Pats beauties working furiously to get most of the mud removed from Hawg's exhausted body. Wyo must have had laywer milloy tamper with the controls on the tub when he was out with the broken arm, because the hot tub jets start going berserk. The first one to go blasts the stringy top right off the bustiest cheerleader. In a panic they all start screaming bloody murder clawing and fighting to get out of the therapeutic bath. Of course no one bothers to help hawg who is still trying to get the mud out of his eyes. Just as the last one escapes every jet explodes, launching hawg, face first, right back into the mud pit he had just been saved from.

Meanwhile back on Wyo's side of the ring she is feeling pretty good about herself as she is getting her own rub down treatment from the entire Bills O-line. Hopefully she doesn't get too relaxed....

Ding...Ding....

let round 2 begin
 
Ding, ding is right sport fans!!!

Stay tuned as Hawgie and wyoSlut lather it up again tomorrow. Right now after my cool down, it's time to get some work done.


Stay tuned as the beleaguered yet determined BILLS fan enjoys the fruits of her labor again tomorrow!


TOMORROW HAWGIE'S GOIN' DOWN!!!!!


And....

















he's going to LIKE it!!!!:thumb:
 
Well rested, properly lubed, and eager with anticipation for her last chance at the man of her dreams..... the wyoSlut sits in her corner with her legs spread and her eyes bearing down on her target; that infamous tattoo of Tom Brady.

She brought out all the heavy artillery for this showdown of the ages... and with a sense of glee punctuates the testicles of the voodoo doll containing one pubic hair of BELLyBOY's (confiscated from the housekeeper at his favorite sex club)....

NOTHING will stop her from putting out her BEST effort for the sake of her team, and the lust in her heart for that east coast stud with the misplaced pigkskin passion disorder.


Nevermind his ignorance of good football taste, she wants to have her way with him, and nothing short of complete submission will due. The crowd is on the edge of their seats, the men with one hand on their beer and other.......

The cheerleaders are dripping with sweat and envy. Each is imagining that she is the alphawyowoman in the ring with that burning hunk of Cambridge love. They know their place and defer to the wolverine-like aura of the woman who gets to TAKE HIM DOWN TO HIS KNEES.

The clock ticks. The bell rings. The vixenslut comes out on all fours and circles the object of her lust. He locks eyes with her as she purrs with anticipation.

Suddenly she leaps and........
 
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