Thursday, September 4, 2008

In the Ruff










3 comments:

Anonymous said...

And well you may wonder, with masturbation, frottage, fellatio, CBT and lesser known remedies available, to ease the occasional immensity of dick, if ridefuck by grinding power ass really is necessary. True, it is the one which assures the fullest immersion and extraction, the most uniform application of succouring flesh, and direct access to genitals radically delighted to be so engaged, to say nothing of nipples to calibrate the diligence of the hosting anus. But these cannot be counted as ridefuck’s primary incentives, when we factor in the civic and sacred obligation to conceive and carry to term a human life to the greater glory of the law and the prophets.

Who among us, would know that male ridefuck is an inefficient mode of inducing a pregnancy, in a society where “abstinence only” is the sum of sexual knowledge? Who among us, would trust science in the first place, when the divine intervention of dick is at hand, to summon us to such Intelligent Design? Who among us, would dismiss the gestative faculties of ass, via unimmaculate conception, given the luminous miracle of the anointed uterus, so well substantiated in our texts? Who, indeed, is prepared to impose the fucksome seed of every other documented birth, upon a gender shorn of liberty to do anything about its body’s use?

RIde, therefore, for the candied grafting of Alaskan superstition upon Arizonan delusion, and hasten its elevation over us, as bottom’s dick twangs diligent, to mime the merry madness of our ridefuck’s show of faith. Roar in tongues of rapture for the unsuspected genius of anus’ common sense, “Cock, more cock!” Persist in heaving dick to ream the writhing port of peace, insisting information is the enemy of life.

Koba said...

More great soliloquies, Anon!

Anonymous said...

The plum under thumb’s compression displays consoling magnitude but also brave resiliency under ravagings my ass inflicted to extract this fair colloidal treacle of its lushened slit. At last the legislation that I lobbied for, with lips and tongue and teeth and thorax, suctions and lavings and lickings and lappings to entrap it crushingly with my slot to extrude its direst breadth of swollen wealth for my delight alone, pours copiously from both lobes of its bicameral ripening, as frenulum tugs the tap where it is sewn to gush my praises’ prize. The dome you see as this dickhead has been the lodestar of my nourishment through every craving plea I’ve heaped upon it without restraint, and is now the sculpted narrative of my indivisible rapture in its gracious rape. You look at this plushened bulb in sway and plot its capture in your suck. I look at it and see imprint of my heart.