thirty-one.

happy berfday to the cucch.
thirty-one molto-EXPERT(e) years old.
in a flippin' row.

from what i understand,
b-days are the days for guilt-free hard-style pounding,
and big fun with cake and presents.
i hope all that happens, for sure.
that tree peony blossom up there popped out just for today.
6-5-11.
it adds up, my ninjas.
on the ones.
*
duders,
i've been working my A* off.
no joke.
i have no A* anymore.
it's just a smoothie strip between my cheeks.
believe me.
i checked it...twice.
as a result of the lack of ejection port expulsion,
i'm now completely full of sh!t.
that's a thing.
***********
i'm easy like it's still morning,
but neighbors, it's already sunday night already.
don't worry about me and my missing butthole....
i'm gonna get myself a new one ripped open
tomorrow when i tattyzapulate some brutality.
tribal bursting out of a skin-rip.
seriously.
the hardest-styles are always saved for last.
my weekend starts tuesday,
if i can survive the stormswept gypsy black spike extravaganza.
we'll see.
in the meantime,
before bed,
i'm on that candy beans and movie night jauns.
the weather all day was beautiful.
friends,
i wish you were here;
never quiet, never soft.....