Inscrutable pageantries of absurdity written in penis dribble.
A buoyant clarity shook the air.
Goose the throttle, work the muscle. Not a formula that can be improved upon. That's my sense of it. The fun implications and stay-with-me pace of femme-butch masturbatory activities get me going every time. It's human nature! Snack on that.
Humorless curmudgeon. Dandy, vagabond, sexpot to the hilt. A carefully considered complexity creaking under the weight of cutesy heartsick coos and disfigured jelly dongs carousing the delicate swarms of dream-logic ganglia or whatever.
