Dear Dysfunctional Past
Fuck you. May you eat lead paint and die, only to be consumed by maggots and excreeted like the pile of fecal matter that you are.
Sine Cera,
Me
Dear Functional Present,
I love you. You may stay.
That is all.
One big bundle of nerves I am right now.
Will I emerge in triumph over them?
Hmmm....I believe the important thing is that right now, I am covered in Asian themed gold silk.
I rule....my nerves do not (and will not).
They will go strait to someplace unseasonably cold. And also moosey.
MOOSEY!
So I am suring for porn on an Apple. The irony is not lost on me.
You know its funny, strippers have such a bad (and undeserved) reputation.
All the people I have met in the industry have been nothing but kind, generous and helpfull to me.
Like one big family. More sensual and with a better smell than most families though.
Perhaps I have... Read More
My mouth is dry, my panties are soaked, and I can still detect the wonderfull aroma of a stripper on my person.
Of all the things in the universe, are females not the finest?
*contented sigh*
how bout some photographic evidence of it in action?