Flying Penguins
Flying Penguins by the hand of doom September 21, 2010
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Flying Penguin
When you're fucking a chick doggy style and she's bent over the bed you wrap her legs around you and quickly yank her off the bed as you stand up and she flaps her arms to try and keep her balance but like a penguin she can't fly and eventually faceplants to the floor.
Last night I gave my girl the flying penguin and she got a rug burn on her forehead...but she let me finish.
Flying Penguin by Sillyninja August 21, 2008
Related Words
flying penguin
Similar to ski poling by a girl, but a guy sitting between 2 girls and fingering them backhanded. Hands and arms flailing away like a penguin flapping his wings, trying to fly.
Tom was sitting between these two girls on the couch, looking like a flying penguin, with his hands between their legs hammering away.
flying penguin by QQQQ55 February 10, 2022
breatharian
breatharian by leena gabor November 8, 2005
Word of the Day on June 3, 2026
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress
"Militarily, that inquest was a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress by Rok'n'rol Wannabe October 19, 2006
Word of the Day on June 2, 2026
fogey
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)