The glazing of the slop is so good for dickhead on a hike that I marvel they never mentioned this to me in scouting. And there we all were - you know - boned like a battalion of catamites consuming cock in our every dreaming breath, trudging up hill and over dale under furious friction of frenulum and raging burn of glans, and not a word about basting the dome of our delirium with the unguent of its solace. Is this something they finally figured out in Manitoba, or was it Wales, do you suppose? Oh, I can't tell you how it soothes one's anguish for our own neglect, dear Hawt, to know it isn't being passed on to the heaving cocks behind us in life's enduring feedback loop, of penisvaliant scouting in those rudely chaffing twills.
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The glazing of the slop is so good for dickhead on a hike that I marvel they never mentioned this to me in scouting. And there we all were - you know - boned like a battalion of catamites consuming cock in our every dreaming breath, trudging up hill and over dale under furious friction of frenulum and raging burn of glans, and not a word about basting the dome of our delirium with the unguent of its solace. Is this something they finally figured out in Manitoba, or was it Wales, do you suppose? Oh, I can't tell you how it soothes one's anguish for our own neglect, dear Hawt, to know it isn't being passed on to the heaving cocks behind us in life's enduring feedback loop, of penisvaliant scouting in those rudely chaffing twills.
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