Feb 15, 2024
Dorks <3
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Dorks <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I love the show everything
Lil guys plus green is tiptoeing
Wait never mind I've looked at yellow's Mac and it seems that they are not little guys at all
You don't know everything. You don't truly understand. And honestly, that is pitiful. Don't assume you know what really is going on. Because in full honesty, you truly don't. Why don't you eat marshmallows instead, hmm? You might get spoiled. 💀☠
I’m in love!!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Err guys... what are you doing?
oddly-familiar trickster-deity pumps the halo doof stick that’s always just out of reach
a Rainbow Serpent-inspired poem for the Moral Highground Crew et al, with apologies to Luke & Peachy for sampling from the genius of their Rainbow bingo cards
in memorium JL
how a doof chocked with gnomic tripper-traps for wholesale avant-garde mind-laundering suffers a brush with the mainstream is anyone’s impromptu welcome to country with alleged MD caps’ PMA shadow sown anew to make no waste given there’s no such thing as no such thing in a post-truth paean to science dancing in labcoats to study the playground stage’s hypersamsaric vicinity sneaking a selfie with dude dressed as Trump in a burqa pulling yoga asanas what the schlock was that mankini thinking doing burnouts in a motorised couch the gradients not so conducive to chummy cops dancing on stilts was that the piratical dealer wearing a feather or the one selling nose spoons his camp a fort eminently patched from campervans, annexes & armoured tents with no (obvious) turret for semi-automatic bubble-cannon but in the evershifting gallery I sipped bodymind’s slowburn how the air hovers like the lines for Sat morning coffee at the Psybus how even a naked hippie gets his sleep on a handheld screen that may yet promise consciousness like a random act of kindness trapped in a ball pit presumably imprisoned by mushies of the effortlessly deflating giant ‘not a lifesaving device’ flamingo orgy I remember zero did I really meditate in the lap of the forest overlooking the festival fluking a cheeky snap of some rare extent of the towering universe filtered through churning sub-bass soil frequencies a death in the family something we all have to tearfully dance through or coping idiosyncratically e.g. riding a rainbow log to devour pulp sci-fi novel as the DJ to end all DJs drops her ‘ketamine’s for beginners’ hellspawn apocalypse plum in the eye of the dancefloor but our friends will ever be everywhere thus the cork of the age of compassion clenched between our teeth about to launch us from this glassless hall of mirror-realms into some other beginningless, endless non-queue