1] It’s clear i'm man of the year and I wont go near them hot stage lights VAN HUNT
2] again as I said before some folk think not getting caught in a lie is the same as telling the truth
3] More Funktry muzk, 4give jones, pause if u don’t like folk
First I would like to apologize for the title, but the rectitude’s of my sexuality have gotten the best of me for the time being, so forgive me, As a man I have desires, needs, wants, passions and penchants that, let us say, define my spiritual exchange with women. This exchange is mandatory in my view and mandatory preferably to the extent of at least 5 times a day. I acknowledge this in the simplest of terms for when I go to sleep I am rigid against my navel and I wake up the same way.
Prior to this vacuous state, I was involved and albeit the object of such stimulation stimulated me, even to the point of every time I drove my vehicle orally and to the end result of child. She had an epiphany and made a promise to God – so she said, not to have any such activity until across the ubiquitous broom. I believed her. But this is not the point. The point is that I have desires, needs, wants, passions and penchants.
I can never be with a woman, another woman that doesn’t want to French, Kiss, swallow manhood, or even let me lick the kitty. Yep, Before had one that said they were disgusting and for dogs – so I barked.
Yep, I’m writing about expectations, and I aint afraid to say what I expect when a woman deals with folk. I’m man all man, and don’t get mad if I feel like dreaming about the Orion nebula when I’m getting throat, or if I take a liking to long slow stroking your eyeballs into submission. Don’t get mad at me because I want to cut up apples and sprinkle cinnamon in your bath water or if I want to sprinkle cinnamon or ginger and honey on your nipples and lick them off. I’m just me, and if you down with folk, that means you like long thickness, deeply buried in the darkness of your soma, and wont even get mad if I cut open a Pomegranate, and place the seeds, in your wetness and retract them with my tongue – that’s passion, it aint nasty. Let me stop. vote