Sunday, October 19, 2008
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2 comments:
The suckstrung penis bastes in the flux of male treasuring, the cushioned dome expansive in its chiseled evolution in the maw of marveling suck. Now, penis cocks its blooming density to extend the protection and compassion of the fuckful pads of pec for assimilation in the adoring fixtures of famine, and males gather ‘round the sight to plead their surrogate’s case for solace in its thrusting sweep of nourishing fuck.
DiCorso's audition of Tiger's penisbulb seems more committed than Goldilocks' critique of porridge, but doubtless carries a similar instinct for nourishment. And why should it not? What spontaneously typifies the plushy stamen to the bee, the ponderous pith upon the stem, if not the nectar of true lusciousness? But genius stamps the sprawling swell of glans upon the stirring frond, and lends its probing apex a vent of inset eloquence to draw the testing tongue, while about its bold perimeter a flaring hilt is etched to lock its sumptuousness in suck. What savoury savant stuns the student's stare at our inspection, that lends his knelt and clasping lips the air of genuflection, if not the proferred penis to effect its fond connection? He loves, he laps, he feasts with full intention, the vastened promise in his face, in fastened circumvention.
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