Yocrunch Snickers Quotes & Sayings
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Top Yocrunch Snickers Quotes

Ruxs moaned a slutty sound, his hips speeding up and Green eagerly matched him. "Soon I'm going to put that pretty cock in my mouth and suck you until you explode down my throat," he said, licking the shell of Ruxs' ear. "Chris," Ruxs hissed. "I'm not gonna last." Green could feel his own balls tightening. It'd been too long since he'd had something besides his toys and his hand to pleasure him. Ruxs' cock was hot and heavy against his. Pulsing greedily. "You like me talking to you like that?" Green squeezed his fist tighter, making sure to flick the cap of Ruxs' bulging head with every stroke. "Answer me." He bent down and bit Ruxs' nipple, making him jerk so hard he almost fell off of him. "Shit!" Ruxs yelled. Green slowed his movement and raised his head. "Well, look what I found." "You talk too damn much." Ruxs gripped his head and lowered him back to his nipple. Green — A.E. Via

Being good is easy, what is difficult is being just. — Victor Hugo

Religious belief has made me comfortable with ambiguity. — Richard Rohr

My grandmother lived a remarkable life. She watched her nation fall to pieces; and even when she became collateral damage, she believed in the power of the human spirit. She gave when she had nothing; she fought when she could barely stand; she clung to tomorrow when she couldn't find footing on the rock ledge of yesterday. She was a chameleon, slipping into the personae of a privileged young girl, a frightened teen, a dreamy novelist, a proud prisoner, an army wife, a mother hen. She became whomever she needed to be to survive, but she never let anyone else define her.
By anyone's account, her existence had been full, rich, important - even if she chose not to shout about her past, but rather to keep it hidden. It had been nobody's business but her own; it was still nobody's business. — Jodi Picoult

In just the same way the thousands of successive positions of a runner are contracted into one sole symbolic attitude, which our eye perceives, which art reproduces, and which becomes for everyone the image of a man who runs. — Henri Bergson