03-06-2009
Guys like that and others.
First I realized that I had to disown them, disrespect them and make them pay. That's what made me bend, a man kneeling in
front of me that obeys my orders that I like a little more, and I hated
that he was more obedient. A slut, a son of a bitch. I asked them their name and when he said looking at me
look shiny, as if I had said I love you, I put une baffe and I said
your name is bitch, shit-eating, mangy dog. And they fell head and shook blasting yes, I am a slut, master. Should they pay, because they were fiottes, pedal to the petty, the son of a bitch barely worthy of their mother.
And then one day I found this game more fun. It came at once, in a
backroom in Mexico with a Mexican shit on his knees in front of me now
watch me and tell me eres rico, rico eres who the fuck I said. Of a sudden I wondered what I was doing there at 5h du
mat 'hours of Paris, standing, legs and bite flagolantes which
molissait before our eyes. It is 5am, Mexico m'emmerde.
My
sperm in as many mouths as possible, my race to the amount of guys on
swallowed miles of muscular flesh thin, tense as offered to me, being
on his knees begging for love to have hope and from hatred to love it. All of a sudden it has become
futile, like masturbate and fuck her disperse wind to go poliniser
flowers, a waste of time, a drought of the soul. It was futile, as my existence and the engine that carried me.
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