He is a boy sleeping against the mosque wall, ejaculates wet dreaming into a thousand cunts pink and smooth as sea shells, […]
[…] when religion was practiced with unfalse solemnity and honest sincerity and when soul salvation was a heritage from heaven for not merely a few thousand, but for many millions.
One, my lord, that doth so palpably, so apparently make her adulteries a trophy, whiles the poting-stick to her unsatiate goatish abomination jeers at, and flouts your sleepish, and more than sleepish, security.
His two-timing wrecked his marriage.
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