What Is The Common Denominator?

The common denominator in all of this shit is freaky, unapologetic sex.

So, if you’re on here trying to preach and school me on my repulsive behavior, get the fuck out of this den of Gomorrah.

Funny thing is: your ass wants to be here, though. That’s the problem. You can’t resist the urge to visit this place because there’s a tingling sensation between your legs that won’t go away. You’re drawn here to sip from my mouth-on-pussy-and-ass cup.

The curved top quenches your thirst momentarily until your pussy and ass craves my wanton mouth again.

You’ve found yourself in a love triangle between your pussy, ass and my mouth.

Guess what?

You don’t know how to escape this sex-crazed predicament you’ve immersed yourself in.

You go to Bible study on Wednesday and church on Sunday to cleanse your soul, but you still want my tongue plastered on your bottom after all that is over. Poor Lil Tink Tink: I’m your motherfuckin’ Achilles heel, and I worship that shit. I enjoy taunting you with my gluttonous tongue and mouth and coercing you to beat your head against the wall in an effort to figure your shit out.

Or, maybe you’d prefer me instead to beat the head of my dick against the wall of your asscheeks after withdrawing from your sloppy wet pussy?

My dick knows what it wants. You’re going to have to get the shit in your head together on your on.

Meanwhile, my laborious cunnilingus tools will work on your underside like a skilled construction worker. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Someone has to get pussy juices and ass hairs in one’s chin. Someone has to swallow the pussy and ass spillage with no reservation.

Shit, I love seizing an extremely hardened clit in my mouth until the holder of the delicate flesh swings, rocks, jolts, and decides to undulate those hips until that sweet flesh becomes a sensitive mess.

I’m not done even though your pussy has spewed its orgasm. I wait a bit and gently begin to reactivate your pussy’s libido with my disruptive mouth service.

I bet you crave my contact info — my integers — I’m trying to get ahold of your body; is it limber?

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