gamer ice cream
gamer ice cream by Ausflug July 4, 2020
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the ice cream game
An intimate practice designed to alleviate tension and forge a profound connection between partners.
Beginning with gentle touches, each participant takes turns incrementally merging their physical presence with the other, akin to the slow “melting” of ice cream. This deliberate progression cultivates a heightened sense of closeness, fostering a tantric and deeply intertwined bond.
The game is complete once both partners are in full contact with each other’s bodies.
Beginning with gentle touches, each participant takes turns incrementally merging their physical presence with the other, akin to the slow “melting” of ice cream. This deliberate progression cultivates a heightened sense of closeness, fostering a tantric and deeply intertwined bond.
The game is complete once both partners are in full contact with each other’s bodies.
the ice cream game by jofiewazhere December 27, 2023
Related Words
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)