It tastes so good ! It's delicious. Don't beleieve it ? These guys'll prove it.
1 comments:
Bystander
said...
The mirth in the satiric "scrunch" on cock in the last frame is a fine reminder, that the adoring of cock need not be "taken seriously," much less morbidly. But that cock does answer to a unique, deep and conscious treasuring in males, cannot be doubted, or dismissed as narcissistic projection. Cock is, after all, the indispensable key, lever and lynchpin of fuck's fulfillment and renewal of the penis feedback loop, wherein cock's virtues enormously transcend even its superficial loveliness and unfathomable lusciousness.
In suckling, then, the consciousness of this is one of those many facets of cock's character we "taste" as an act of restoration to our affection, as well as a replenishment to our famine. Even our first suck of cock fell upon our tongue as an undeniable homecoming, cock's pluperfect prodigality a simple proof of our own cock's clamour to console the the face whose raptures we foretold by spontaneous selection (some evening) or longtime adoration (of a friend).
Thus, cock, all of cock, steeped in saturations of our slaking thirst, at once acquires confidence our satire is sincere, our game grounded in purest penisglazing gladness. My favourite proof of this appreciation of cocksuck's splendid equilibrium of empathy and delectation, is the college dudes portrait of the extravagantly cute bottom, hotly prone on the red counterpane, down for the long, long count of simply sucking the beloved for as long as it is there. Fantastic kid.
1 comments:
The mirth in the satiric "scrunch" on cock in the last frame is a fine reminder, that the adoring of cock need not be "taken seriously," much less morbidly. But that cock does answer to a unique, deep and conscious treasuring in males, cannot be doubted, or dismissed as narcissistic projection. Cock is, after all, the indispensable key, lever and lynchpin of fuck's fulfillment and renewal of the penis feedback loop, wherein cock's virtues enormously transcend even its superficial loveliness and unfathomable lusciousness.
In suckling, then, the consciousness of this is one of those many facets of cock's character we "taste" as an act of restoration to our affection, as well as a replenishment to our famine. Even our first suck of cock fell upon our tongue as an undeniable homecoming, cock's pluperfect prodigality a simple proof of our own cock's clamour to console the the face whose raptures we foretold by spontaneous selection (some evening) or longtime adoration (of a friend).
Thus, cock, all of cock, steeped in saturations of our slaking thirst, at once acquires confidence our satire is sincere, our game grounded in purest penisglazing gladness. My favourite proof of this appreciation of cocksuck's splendid equilibrium of empathy and delectation, is the college dudes portrait of the extravagantly cute bottom, hotly prone on the red counterpane, down for the long, long count of simply sucking the beloved for as long as it is there. Fantastic kid.
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