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Click hereI fucked up. It’s not your fault. Well whose is it then? I’m eighteen, an adult with thoughts about Eric Fromme and X-rated videos, death and shame. There is no god the tall one said to me as he ripped my panties from my huge ass as I looked out his window at the Charger, all green and Incredible Hulk. All men are this way, I thought even critical thinkers. Lift your shirt. She just stripped off, hairy as a dirty squirrel and I let him take a picture of my puke brown breast. Of course there’s no god. It made sense to me then and after.
we all share you state of mime--and buck up hon, your puke brownies are beautiful