Wednesday

dingle


Shivers up her asshole spine. Any fuck you slup. Slobconscious to the spoookey. ness of your slop. call it the 'hardassed hedgewhore. language as the tobaggon soup of a deadening godeye o you intrinsicself slaver your pate before getting out of breakfast|Can you hear the getting off skirt, before the war begins. Booom! Boom! Boomb! it comes rattling down a chambering implosion to the bomgbomb on the skirts of town. A little switch to the west, we have whipping dog, and burialed mounds of motherfuckers time. A Switch east to the broomstick of the jolly joyrider of time, whoremasters pay complete, her skirt's off now, a violin picks her underthings off what they call it? Shit? Is that it? Shit! O Shit! O Shit. Shit. And then it unearths the folly of joy and the condemning rature raptures of heat, and the beatstring ass. Jewel buckets up her arse, she says, lickit. Haberdasheries ass we have a code 9 here, and the erotic shits filled with wheat. Down the elbow its microdot incorporated and the degenerate detective novel in plain pieces. folk like it that, especially nazi ones. You dragoon you!