Perhaps if each of us could truly accept his appointment in Samarra, the activity of that skeleton in card thirteen would not seem so threatening.

And to be honest, in the illustration Mr Tumnus does look as camp as fuck with his little scarf tied jauntily around his neck. I suppose it isn't outside the realms of possibility that he'd just been off cottaging with some centaurs in the forest. God.

Beautiful meat! I say, squeezing the huge young fuck-tool, testing its hardness and hotness and silky smoothness with my fingertips. I kiss and nibble it from balls to pisshole.

Here, Beethoven limits the syncopations and modifications of rhythm which are so prominent in the first and third movements, and employs a rapid, busy, and most melodious figure in the Violins, which is irresistible in its gay and brilliant effect […]