i am we

I want to be impregnated by men from different countries, I want sons and venereal diseases from each and every one of them. I want to carry them with me, I want the world in me. My plan is to have sex with as many men from as many different countries as I can. I want to be fucked by a beautiful man from Poland, and I want to be bathed in Swedish cum, still hot from extraction. I want the warmth of your body in mine, for I’m so cold. I need you to fill my hole. I need you to fill my holes. I need you whole. I want your children.

I want your underwear after a hard day’s work, I want to wear it on my face for as long as time can exist. I want your smell to take me. I want your urine right at my face so I can reach the golden halls of desire. I want it all, I want to much, but we all know it’s not nearly enough. So I want your hair, and I want to rub it on me after feeling it softly through my curious fingers. I want to clean your round and delicious butt with my tongue after you recycle, as long as I can lick your double heir production center and feel I hold all your future generations in my mouth. I want your rock-hard cocks splitting my willing ass, finnish man. I’d like it all for a hedonistic second or two just between the moment we ascend to the moment we’re back. I want to kiss your belly and follow the trail of hair (such a wonderful vegetation) that leads, any way I take, to dreamland. I want to hide myself in your bush, I want to sleep on you (and I want you to sleep on this). I want to lick the sweat out of your armpits. And if I’m ever insatiable, I want to be a big cook and taste your flesh. And when I’m satisfied then we can both be sure I am we.