I want it, no, I sneed it, like a skeeto with a netherese proboscis in between the shy knees. I don't want to just sniff your ass, I want to eat it and stuff it with the stuffed pepper. My grand design is simple. Poo si and or poo. It's not sphexish to simply be aware of your terminal goals like you were Ultron tasked with the impossible, world peace in our time. My balls aren't blue, they are fucking red, like the hot monkey nuts you snack on, they burn. You know how I know the law of manifestation is fucking bullshit? I think about poo si and poo 24/7 and never get snax. You know my seekwet? I was knever good enough to find any, but I was knever bad enough to mind. Yes they hurt, but in an abstract sense, bong beng? Was it the heart mind, or the mindheart? The shin, or betwixt them? Who knows, and who care at this point. I kry out of my dick like the islamic rivers of milk in the jannie. The gnoll toll is rael and not paying it has real consequences. My goal is simple, to dominate, corrupt and defile holes with my erect weiner. Where's my Chris Handsome episode? I can articulate it better than a retarded nasty fat nigger why a 17 year old waving her cute little ass around my dick should be riding it passionately, bong beng?
