Lo Vivid Vulva pulseth here. Puss, Grimy Chunks, thou Pulsing Vulva, Thou Pulseth Forth spewingly. Mind Bending Vulva thou thwarteth oaken roots verily afrozen. Pulsing thing, thine power bleeds almighty and without reprieve as thou art alit. Most horrid thing of which one glance may tare nine men asunder, What foul sorcery dost thou then now smiteth down upon this sanity from which I base my plea? Thou pulsing thing, ever hungry and of most potent known, What drives thee beyond womb to instruct thine, such justices? By pitched voice thou reacheth thine crescendo, Pulsing Vulva. Is it cum-muck or ruckus that oils us such squealing Cogs so very delightfully? Dreadful thing! I beseech thee leave me be, ye horridness verily! For which lung holds air yet let it be at once upon mine chords apleadingly.
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