Can you THINK of it, Hawt: Thomas Dyk, having the presence of mind and generosity of spirit to feed anus to us, even as he slides belovèd cock across the arc of topping penis to fuck's luscious berth of frotting's finest venue? O, Hawt: was thy name e'er more evoked, than when Dyk's fuckmeat were so stoked as to instill its glazing fill where other penis burned to spill, his anus gaping glowingly for tongues trespassing knowingly its sill? Now what blur descends upon the spur of lick, to slake its thirst ascendingly as if it were a dick? But I stray: I give you bottom's fuckpit to esteem its gathered ream, the sump of spew a vortex, too, for all the balsam that they brew. There's a privileged place, I'd say, where tandem cockheads burst their spray, and slop the sluice to mop their juice with every pop they may produce in play. Yet stil your lingual lathe's infused much as a dildo may be used to tap that bay where assly love is unrefused to bathe and stay.
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Can you THINK of it, Hawt: Thomas Dyk, having the presence of mind and generosity of spirit to feed anus to us, even as he slides belovèd cock across the arc of topping penis to fuck's luscious berth of frotting's finest venue? O, Hawt: was thy name e'er more evoked, than when Dyk's fuckmeat were so stoked as to instill its glazing fill where other penis burned to spill, his anus gaping glowingly for tongues trespassing knowingly its sill? Now what blur descends upon the spur of lick, to slake its thirst ascendingly as if it were a dick? But I stray: I give you bottom's fuckpit to esteem its gathered ream, the sump of spew a vortex, too, for all the balsam that they brew. There's a privileged place, I'd say, where tandem cockheads burst their spray, and slop the sluice to mop their juice with every pop they may produce in play. Yet stil your lingual lathe's infused much as a dildo may be used to tap that bay where assly love is unrefused to bathe and stay.
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