hacker comedor de bosta

Tipazo.

I can’t get over this thought of those juicy, wet, jacked half-naked priests in their spotless white dhotis, strutting around like they’re starring in some divine thirst trap. They turn me on so bad that just imagining them gets me drenched. They walk around with that meaty holy swagger, their long, wet hair dripping like they just stepped out of a holy shower commercial. They’re so thick and muscular, it’s like these studs got their own gravity, and I’m just an orbiting moon. The temple’s vibe is so electric with their presence, it makes my heart race like it’s had one too many espressos, and I get all hot and bothered like a lioness in heat. I swear, they’re like the ultimate holy snack, and I’m just a starving soul.