If Cruz clamped my head between his thighs until the end of time, I wouldn’t be mad. I wouldn’t be mad at all. Considering the world’s so fucked right now, the end of time will probably come sooner rather than later, you know? I might as well spend my last few hours trapped between a pair of beefy legs.
Of course, when placed in such a position, there’s always the possibility that my tongue would be able to reach Cruz’s ass. If that were to happen, his ankles would obviously thrust toward the heavens, and I’d be left with no choice but to munch on his tight virgin hole until the rapture, an alien invasion or whatever will lead to the inevitable destruction of the human race.
How would I survive the responsibility of such a task? The horror!
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