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Total Sexual Mastery

I know 7 techniques that will allow you to achieve total sexual mastery.

I’m not going to share them … not for free.

There’s this part of a woman’s spleegus-area that exudes a greasy black mineral, you bite into that, you gain insight into your own madness.

I can show you how to ungudoolate a woman so that she reaches a 9 on the soob-nah scale of female juices.

Women hunt after my jewel-sauce.

I got 6 kinds of woman for 12 kinds of love making.

I can sense your orgasm, smell it, taste it.

I’ve been making a lot of headway with my 4 primary systems of SEX POWER and PUSSY GREED: a) cup her dinglies, b) embrace her horns, c) crush her with rod passion, d) spew on cue … follow these steps, and you too will have complete love mastery.

“Ladies … want some flesh pie?”

I have love potions baby …

I’m out there in the night, ready to tuck you in.

I can fill your cup, butterfly dearest.

That’s right baby – I have my eye on your booty.

I see your love dreams and can envision you, running through the jungle, scantily clad, being hounded by sweaty prison guards …

I saw you dancing last night, to that new song.

I saw you touch yourself, and you know I was there … watching.

I love you baby.

I’ll give you a salad mixer, if you toss my salad.

Your blood boils as your lust builds,

and your window sill hooker waits,

the metal grates clink as you sink into her chasm.

She screams: “That’s not ice cream!”

And you say: “Nah, that’s NICE CREAM.”

I can teach you about STOOB-JENKINS MAGIC …

Your woman will never know what hit her, as she moans in pleasure-agony, and her sprinctal-zone ignites with juice power.

Is she looking for an old style “beefeater”, but what she says she wants is the “English Navy”?

I was your Steve McQueen style lover, and your body shivered under my great escape …

I shattered your G SPOT with my “sunny day dandy”, and you screamed as though a million suns were burning in pleasure.

You called me your “shimmy McDoogle”, and I said “keep shining river squirrel” …

Your kestrel arc, as you slid my meat pipe into your cubby, slew me baby … and that “twice chewed pork” routine? – damn girl, damn

I’ve seen you – demon lord.

Master of that newer scene, one so mean and lean that no body will stop your witch’s bosom … and such green tips, and lips that shine and rhyme with that moan you make, you know baby …

Can I be your Canadian monkey, if you will be my Monte Cristo Woman?

Is there a greasy place for us?

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Where I’m at …

I’m not sad, or truly happy – just satisfied.

I don’t expect this to change, and I am grateful for what I have.

But it’s hard to say what “that” means. That thing that makes this worth it … the cheap weed? – no.

Something more, and maybe it will electrify me.

But the world feels broken.

I don’t think I care what people believe at this point – I fear for my own faith, some days, but not for the faith of others. Others will proclaim, as they kiss the boot of Satan, that they are “good” Christians.

Know who you are mode, before God.

This is boblimptock.