#omfg lmaoo

[dangerousbride]

Words can't express how much positive energy you deserve <3. Super funny, super nice,and super kinky ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). For real I'm a dude and I think you deserve only the best of big dick men who will treat you right who may or may not be more than one person ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I’m... I appreciate the good wishes, thank you!

[dangerousbride]

greetings your THIGHness, how may i serve thee today

THIGHNESS

[number-one-stud-blog]

*Scrolls on dash

IRA I AAM ON THE PUBLIC BUS LMAO

[dangerousbride]

yiff me gently, murrr

I'M NOT A FURRY

[oneplasticweave]

 (Read with the song)      

   The call of the iconic artist revolutionized the atmosphere of the hot and bothered dancefloor. "2 CHAINZ..." he proclaimed as a posse of dancers with well-placed footing maneuvered toward the center-- the cesspool-- the hotbed of activity.      

         The mixed scents of perfume and sweat assaulted the guests' nostrils. Pheremones ignited the most primal instincts amongst even the most humane of the partygoers. Sparked an influence tugging at them like a monster truck and a chain. Sweat already soaked the rabble between crevices; drenched the curves and dents. Set it apart-- marked it-- with a darker splotch that was growing ever-larger with the passing time.     

          The crowd all of sudden parted like the sea of Egypt. Shaniqua was the Moses in command, God's prophet; the partygoers-- her loyal Israelites. They watched in awe, mouths gaping and then smacking against the floor--hard. If anyone was the master of this dance, it was surely the black woman.   

              Her red gown licked the floor and then swept across it. Dropped it low and then gradually rose. Perpetually red lips pouted, curled downwards at the ends,  as she commenced the dance that seemed like she knew it all too well. It was a second nature to her. Experience of the years ravaging clubs flooded in, this was the paramount of her experiences.      

             Shaniqua let one leg escape from the confines of her gown, forming a horse stance. Shot out her thick arms in front of her and eventually crossed them. One, two, three .... and then it started. The booty was a creature in an of itself. It moved on its own accord. Took orders from no one except the black woman herself. It shook rapidly, like a motion blur effect on photoshop.      

            Knees subtly bent and continued to drop lower and lower. Shaniqua's juicy ass stuck out further, like a display of dominance akin to a sexual but powerful lioness. One arm scooped up the tail of the dress. Her thick thighs jiggled as well, while her butt oscillated to the rap. Heels clacked furiously against the hardened dancefloor. All eyes were on her-- or her booty.       

          The voluptuous booty stuck on the dancefloor like the back face of Shaniqua. Equated Voldemort to Professor Quirl.  It was mesmerizing, rhythmically bouncing in the same circle for hours. It was a race car circling the same track continuously. Her torso made jerking movements, setting slight movements to her appeal. Dangled the Fleur De Lis necklace.

        Twerking was not just a dance, but an art. An art to be mastered by all who had a big booty.            

        One, two, at a time, participants gained the courage to join her in her sexy pursuit of dancing. Trish twerked next to her while the less fortunate attempted and failed at the art. Shaniqua was the role model for twerking, a saint in her own right. 

[aprilovesblackcoffee]

[i-am-vladrigue]