Thursday, December 25, 2008

Can Implantation Bleeding Just Be Pink Tinged

Cameraman

Oh my God. God appears, reborn, takes all the provisions enough to conceive what happens when she jumps on top of him sitting, clutching his chest, sucking, taking her by the waist for her to jump over and make God appear more times Oh my God, oh my God ... Fuck . I see no eyes, I see through the camera lens. I turn to face her, the numb face of the divine presence that only exists when you pronounce and she says and opens his eyes and still jumping up and gets up and goes like a dog and he stands behind her and I walk around the office and tell her to further develop his God and to move faster. She looks at me, or rather, looks at the camera and I move a bit, pointing out that change, to cuddle and take the huge member of it and enter it into your mouth, that mouth that God has created and he ask me something I can not decipher and I answer with silence, through a zoom camera that comes close to the phallus lying in the crib of God, now it is unpronounceable, and that, however, thinking and can therefore be flooded in each of the neurons Oh my God, Oh my God . And he takes the head, not remove him without the hair falling over her forehead and on his pelvis, and I will not say anything, just do another sign them to return to the desk and she put face up and open her legs and bend directing the warm to heaven, to that firmament which God is refilled when the member rolls of what she has inside. The cry of it fills the sky but can not see; Oh my God! , just focus on me that some movement will mean a change order of position, as I remember the garden where I walked when Uncle Obdulio approached me and I cut off the kind that now moves into it, and suddenly to pour out the liquid rearwardly on her face. And I'm left with less money after giving each other hand and with the possibility of finding others who can bring forth God as a distant breeze I can only weave in my powerful impotence.

Aszeta