Here are some really funny Thanksgiving jokes that were sent to me by some readers:
I saw you across a crowded room. Among all the others that were there, The lights seemed to shine down on you alone. I knew then I had to have you for my own. Willingly, you came with me to my home. From the car, I carried you & threw the door. Looking at you, I admire your body, your well shaped legs, and breasts. Slowly I remove what wraps, around your body so tightly, fitting you like a glove. Exposing your tender white skin. From your neck I remove your charms, and carry you off in my arms, to the warm water that awaits. The water cascades down your neck, flowing over your soft breasts then, making your legs glisten with wetness. Droplets of water cover your taut skin. My hands rub your body, ummmm running them threw the beads of water. Making them trickle down off your body. I place my fingers inside you. You are warm and moist, so ready. I carry your still dripping body, to a laying place, so that I can put inside you what was well prepared to enter you before we even came through the door. As soon as I lay you down your legs spread open wide. You are ready now and so am I. I put a little in slowly at first, getting a feel for how much you can take in. I put in more, you take it willingly. In anticipation, faster and faster I put it in, pushing it in deeply as far as I can, until I can't put any more in, you are so tight. With your legs wrapped tightly, not wanting to release any of it, I make you so hot for a very long time, until your sweet juices escape from within. Then I taste you, with my tongue at first, your skin is so soft and tender. I taste more of you with my mouth, you are so hot and moist, you taste so good. Your juices coating my mouth, making me drool in anticipation of eating you more, with every taste. "Oh yes", I say to you, I must say Grace "Thank God for Butterball turkey.... Amen"
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A man in Phoenix calls his son in New York the day before Thanksgiving and says,"I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough. "Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams. We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the father says. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her." Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they're getting divorced," she shouts, "I'll take care of this," She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at her father, "You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" and hangs up. The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "they're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."
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