I was almost eaten alive by a German Shepherd when I was 5. It mauled the fuck out of me. Luckily I jammed a wiffle ball bat down it’s throat. If you don’t believe me, look at the scarring on my back and bum region. (not you FBM) It decided to go to dinner that night. Stitches upon stitches upon stitches. Actually it healed quite well. I don’t care for German Shepherds very much.
Fuck German Shepherds. I was about 7 years old when I thought it would be a cool idea to get a piggy back ride from my godmothers German Shepherd. He didn’t think so and turned around and bit me in the face the second I touched him. Fuck German Shepherds.
Well, we can at least narrow down how it didn’t happen:
1. You never fought anyone who was wearing an Iron Claw.
2. Sliding in to third base shears skin, like nasty road rash.
3. You skull fucked a chick so hard that while tears were streaming down her face, slobber was dripping down her chin and she was choking back vomit, she had no choice but to gouge your ass with her nails because clearly she couldn’t say the safe word.