Fat lad strip tease where I keep trying to pull a crop top down to cover my stomach until I tear it off entirely
Ngl if I was on the walls during a medieval siege I’d be using that boiling oil to fry up some chicken for me & the other bold souls selling our lives dear for our liege lord
I’m drinking premium lagers in dimly lit bars with men the likes of which you can’t even begin to conceive of
Sweating profusely, scrawling with a large quill at a wooden writing desk, back quaking with my laboured breathing. I am fevered, the candle flickers from a draft as a storm beats outside. The camera cuts to the parchment on which I lay my thoughts.
“Tex-mex mille-feuille”
Some of y’all afraid to moan during sex. Not me. I start Mongolian throat singing as soon as she breaks the waistband.





