#timaeum

Upon the winter of twenty-thirteen,  I knew a man with a love of chicken. The hair on his head was a golden sheen. I could always find him in the kitchen.

Upon his back was the best rear end. I often admired it in the night. And when upon my lap he would descend, I would admire it with all of my might.

It was the perfect mix of soft and firm. I could not get the butt out of my head. Even professional scholars confirmed That his butt was much better than sliced bread.

really,

My hand is raised in the air.

Call the cops.

Do you want to stick your feet up my shirt.