Quoted By:
Every day I wake up with a morning wood and the first thing comes to my mind is Vezalius. I think about Zali’s long legs when I brush my teeth. I think about Zali’s wide chest when I wash my face. When I take my breakfast I get reminded of Zali’s delicious sweat. I think about Zali’s armpits when I am in classes. I fantasise about my kok being tied up by Zali’s bandages when I take a pee break. When I take lunch I imagine ground pounding Zali while he moans in coquettish Frnch. Yes. Frnch. I don't even find it cringy anymore, and even emerged an impulse to learn Fr*nch just because I could use authentic slurs to insult him sexually in bed. I want to call him my little petite cumbag and seeing his gentle expression getting corrupted on bed by my throbbing kok. I want him to repeatedly how magnifique and énorme my baguette is till I vehemently pour my crème de la donger inside his tender asshole. I cannot live one day longer without putting my kok inside Zali anymore. The reality without Vezalius Bangade as my personal cumdump is worse than that down in the Catacooms of Paris. Life is meaningless and torturous.
