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Random
Fucking a girl until she passes out then ejaculating on her eyes so when she comes to she is blind for a little bit
I just did a filthy harrison last night
When a guy fucks his girl then busts in her then shits in and on her cooch.
I hate that skank I'm going to give he r a filthy biscut.
When you are having shower sex after eating Taco Bell and you fart as much as you want while blasting "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong on repeats so no one can hear it.
I gave her the Filthy Lou last night after the taco extravaganza.
A sex fetish that involves one fake psychologist to be tied up to resemble a captured rebel slave. After this is done, multiple other fake psychologists defficate and urinate on this person.
I'm really in the mood to do a Filthy Spartak tonight, let's call Hlib Pologyy.
Shoving two fingers in your ass before hooking your partner's nostrils with them and throwing them off you
Jim: you get any last night?
Brian: nah. She wanted it but I was too tired so I threw her the filthy fishhook, rolled over, and went to sleep.
A “filthy Raymond” is a vulgar provocateur who takes pleasure in delivering explicit, sexually graphic, and disgustingly detailed remarks while performing lewd, boundary-violating acts such as crude pranks or public groping, all intended to provoke shock, discomfort, and revulsion in others. This individual is vividly compared to a crusty sock stuck beneath a mattress—perpetually sticky, emanating the stench of poor choices, and marked by unsavory experiences, reminiscent of a reckless, blackout weekend in Reno.
“I woke up hungover, the kitchen smelled like burnt Hot Pockets and lube, and there was a Filthy Raymond passed out on my couch wearing my bathrobe with no pants — again.”
A “filthy Raymond” is a vulgar provocateur who takes pleasure in delivering explicit, sexually graphic, and disgustingly detailed remarks while performing lewd, boundary-violating acts such as crude pranks or public groping, all intended to provoke shock, discomfort, and revulsion in others. This individual is vividly compared to a crusty sock stuck beneath a mattress—perpetually sticky, emanating the stench of poor choices, and marked by unsavory experiences, reminiscent of a reckless, blackout weekend in Reno.
“I woke up hungover, the kitchen smelled like burnt Hot Pockets and lube, and there was a Filthy Raymond passed out on my couch wearing my bathrobe with no pants — again.”