Tom Oatmeal

A Blog About Intercourse from a guy who doesn't get nervous about intercourse like his friend Ricky does.

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George Washington Carver’s nightmares were getting worse.  He was safe now, but it seemed like it had been ages since he’d slept through the night.  As he paced around his living room with a glass of water, he caught a glimpse of his tired face in the mirror.
"I have to stop," thought Carver.

George Washington Carver’s nightmares were getting worse.  He was safe now, but it seemed like it had been ages since he’d slept through the night.  As he paced around his living room with a glass of water, he caught a glimpse of his tired face in the mirror.

"I have to stop," thought Carver.

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