Can you remember taking baths with your mom or dad?

[Niqqa You Gay]

I have faint memories of bath time. Sesame street toys and either a tv or radio playing in the bathroom. Mom standing in the doorway and laughing and probably also doing that blah blahing that women do. My pops across from me, bonding with his boy
Heroin destroys lives and bring memories of pain, but there are some good ones that last forever in the mind. And in that you find your piece, or PEACE of mind.

 

[Supercoolmayo]

 

[triplehate]

 

[Teal.]

 

[SoulController]

 

[HowardHughes]

My aunt used to have a shower with me back when i was 6 or 7 she was around 17/18

Didnt think nothing of it then

 

[yo moms]

My aunt used to have a shower with me back when i was 6 or 7 she was around 17/18

Didnt think nothing of it then

Bet you still fap to that memory

 

[Niqqa You Gay]

Don't gif reply me, I don't like it
My very own family was torn to shreds by infidelity along with drug use in the Living Single/Martin/NY Undercover era. Memories haunt me to this day of my dear mother losing her very soul and half heartedly preparing family suppers. Her eyes would rarely blink as she stood by an oven that both cooked our meals and heated the house, whipping mashed potatoes and flavorless pork chops. They were edible, but they were not made with the love and passion i was accustomed to. As I would sit at the table and bite into those dry, seasoning and soul deprived chops I would stare at the chair that would once be occupied by my now absent father. Instead of a headstrong Lester Jenkins-esque man being in that chair, there were now only Fingerhut catalogues and faint memories of happiness. I would swallow that wretched swine and curse the Jet magazines that used to be stacked on daddy's dresser. However the memories of bath time are one of the very few highlights of our life together

 

[HowardHughes]

Bet you still fap to that memory

Spoiler

 

[DragonZord]

Don't gif reply me, I don't like it
My very own family was torn to shreds by infidelity along with drug use in the Living Single/Martin/NY Undercover era. Memories haunt me to this day of my dear mother losing her very soul and half heartedly preparing family suppers. Her eyes would rarely blink as she stood by an oven that both cooked our meals and heated the house, whipping mashed potatoes and flavorless pork chops. They were edible, but they were not made with the love and passion i was accustomed to. As I would sit at the table and bite into those dry, seasoning and soul deprived chops I would stare at the chair that would once be occupied by my now absent father. Instead of a headstrong Lester Jenkins-esque man being in that chair, there were now only Fingerhut catalogues and faint memories of happiness. I would swallow that wretched swine and curse the Jet magazines that used to be stacked on daddy's dresser. However the memories of bath time are one of the very few highlights of our life together