Yet another absolute quicksand plain of complete immobility, save for the twanging, grieving prong of suckless penis horn, flailing hotly 'neath the limits of its cruel flesh's tolerance for swell. Oh, dick! Where is thy mercy, to so blame my forcemeat fucking gaze for thy disturbing dislocation of my blood? O fuckpalm, slap now sense into this frenzied flesh and crush my balls with wise precaution, lest this monster reconvene debate if we should ever masturbate its swill.
Well, obviously we have to start with another of the gods' mislaid fratmen (what in heaven is the MATTER with these deities, who keep losing these absolute rôle models of urethral architecture and deportment?). But here we really lose it, and not even words can spill from one's penis slit without choking there as shards of disbelieving outburst, hammered from below by zillions more where they came from.
May I just plead an exemption from remark on this fratchrist, for fear of offending someone on a Sunday? Oh, what glory, we can't bear to give a summary, without gnawing every cell and suckling on their molecules of unconditional mystery. But I'm not looking for some transfiguration of this guy, some slushy dollop or two of eucharist to symbolise his body and his blood. I want this whole fucking human being in my flesh this minute.
1 comments:
Yet another absolute quicksand plain of complete immobility, save for the twanging, grieving prong of suckless penis horn, flailing hotly 'neath the limits of its cruel flesh's tolerance for swell. Oh, dick! Where is thy mercy, to so blame my forcemeat fucking gaze for thy disturbing dislocation of my blood? O fuckpalm, slap now sense into this frenzied flesh and crush my balls with wise precaution, lest this monster reconvene debate if we should ever masturbate its swill.
Well, obviously we have to start with another of the gods' mislaid fratmen (what in heaven is the MATTER with these deities, who keep losing these absolute rôle models of urethral architecture and deportment?). But here we really lose it, and not even words can spill from one's penis slit without choking there as shards of disbelieving outburst, hammered from below by zillions more where they came from.
May I just plead an exemption from remark on this fratchrist, for fear of offending someone on a Sunday? Oh, what glory, we can't bear to give a summary, without gnawing every cell and suckling on their molecules of unconditional mystery. But I'm not looking for some transfiguration of this guy, some slushy dollop or two of eucharist to symbolise his body and his blood. I want this whole fucking human being in my flesh this minute.
Post a Comment