yeah? y’wanna peace of Me?? -jesus

I’m so like 7th Heaven; I’m so not P/R:

ultra🆇cited. I’m basically a ‘recruitment company’ for interstellar travel amongst the stars, Miss Magnificent Mademoiselle. D’joo know I gotta lotta Secret Universe to be populated by us which is 111 extra-miles-circumference justo fulfill your desires? If youNeye decide 2B1 for the length and breadth of eternity, what you’ll receive is beyond exponential: the 3rd thro 7th dimension (or higher) which is difficult for many astrophysicists to wrap their minds around, we’ll getta lotta free-time to YAY! wraaastle aboard my ship (all girls are gorgeous in my eyes because they have smthn men don’t). SO! MAKE! HEAVEN! cutie pie: I’ll take you out to some fabulous KFC beyond the stars. Believe me, you’ll see stars.

This huge-cosmic-stadium, miss universe, covering trillionplex-ish of light years? Pretty vast. Now, picture the Eagle’s football field: 1x1 yard/our minute galaxy. When we’re done withat? Think of the many other universes which Almighty God has mass produced for yooNeye. Wanna explore those, too? We have forever, girls, not just ‘gotta-be-home-by-ten-thing’ Saturday; like the ‘drive-in-flik’ rolls the credits, this Never Ends. 

Upstairs, girls, if you can answer who sed, ‘Nice shootin’, kid! Don’t get cocky!!’ and what flick (HINT: ‘Laugh-it-up, fuzzball’), you'll have your place aboard my starship at the ᴙong way cafe. Wanna summora this full-size, full-service, full-length-eternal-fantasy-amidst-the-starry-sky??

Not many find the key2unlocking the priceless treasures which await; you’ll soon discover how large the universe is: not very big if cannot hold my love. Wanna summoe! Gonna git summoe!! *better add this:*

📎

Upstairs, not here (mortal sin to sleep with a person you aren’t married to), I’m gonna influence her, kneading her, cuddling me. I totally want that; I totally want 2B1 in XTC. Not only is that possible, yet even more! more! more! is the eternity of passion, Miss Universe.

Here’s one scenario:

Wannum??

In my Mötley-Fëw-outta-the-orthodox-boxxaroxx-7th-Heaven, e.very.thing is not only possible, but diss! funk! tional! Me riding to a hostel Upstairs; many, many, maиy young/mature models, swimming or sunbathing or snooozin or ‘all the cute🅫 who ηflǝw I was comin’ impossible to kiss/cuddle them all at once Egad, man!! What do I do?? I call down the Miny☆Mee! sHe shall make as many of mee₉₉₉ as needed, young or old, so the delicious-whip-cream-girls will never feel left-out unless they wanna watch/learn (or feed’m yummy I scream to die for: to morph withe groovy nanometers or to be awestruck at our passion). Ain’t that cool shoes? Here’s another explosive, depth-charge-desire for those warm, wild, wonderful girls who bypass this passing earth:

I mountain bike several-hundred-miles to a studio high in the mountains where seven young women, all gorgeous knockouts, all highly trained, professional painters are living presently;

Those adorable, young things paint moi, aussi on a cowch with a Polo, a tie and a hint of aftershave, taking a few hours, throwing out, re-focusing, starting over.

To love and to serve with joy every delicious, irresistable, intoxicating, wild-fire-female all at once, in every corner of the universe, would be quite physically impossible... so here's whot I did to envelop the elaborate, the endless, daunting expression of the extraordinary:

I whisper to them after they're done,
'Wanna catalyze the insane now?'

They just smile at me, swiftly realizing.

'How many do you have?' pointing at the first, tall, thin, gorgeous girly in influencial braids.

'About fiveish.'

She giggled,

perceiving the

perceptable.

'Then, take fiveish and go, populate the universe,' as I jumped-off the canvas into her most loving arms. 'The refuse, dear,' pointing with priceless, primordial passion.

Though I dont seem like it sometimes,

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