Pipe dream, me arse, full fantasies ahead!
No more being just the fan, man.
...It doesn't matter who you are ... **** E!V!E!R!Y!B!O!D!Y! ****
IS A ROCK 'N' ROLL STAR...
If I would have been Elvis, I would of torn down those cold, creaky gates of Graceland and invited IN! all of my loyal, heartfelt fans. For as long as they wanted. No more spectator rock & roll. From here on out it's hands-on, rock stars all, AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION. Rock fans, show your allegiance and appreciation to your favorite rock star, or fav WHOMEVER!, by BUILDING for them, your fellow fans, and yes, yourself, a paradise-packed, tech-friendly, exotic 'n' erotic eco-enclave. Seek no more ye seat but stand grand and MAKE yer life more rock & roll complete.
I, Johnny Neptune, your sex-tuned, exploring sexplorer, am pleased to reveal your treasure map for sanely sailing the salty sensual seas, for navigating the naughty nauticals ... and beyond. Where body and earth are central and celebrated. Where ancient cultures of nature and land meets the Zeitgeist of blossoming spiritual queens and kings. Where Business, Science, Religion, and Living are all schooled in the Art of ... Wow!!!
I, personally, don't know jack about growing food, the building of shelter, nor, pretty much, about anything else, BUT I SEEK: YOU WHO DO. I also don't know how, but somehow, someway, we---you and me---if we hunker down and give it a try, we can begin to create true happy homes for willing and game Horny Citizens of Earth, homes in which all mature adult members are emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and SEXUALLY compatible. That is correct, Dorthy, there's no place like ... these homes. This solid-seismic SOCIAL REVOLUTION may just possibly be every bit as significant as, say, the discovery of fire, or the invention of electricity, or the light bulb, or manned-flight, or flush-plumbing, or miniskirts, or bikinis, or spandex, or thongs, or even ... porn on the web.
Old World nuclear families, congrats!, way to go, you've had quite an extended run, and will most likely be remembered as the generally resourceful, if not always 100% smooth and tranquil, quasi-spiritual-cultural stepping stone that allowed us to go from living in the trees to ... soaring among the stars. But today, right here, right now, it's time for you, with full battle honors, absolutely, to mercifully step aside as your heyday, your service, your servitude, and your bondage, is long past heave-ho DONE. Time served. Time served. Welcome to my intergalactic and earthy, down to earth, capital hunch: LOVE AND WORK DO! MIX. ROMANCE RULES!, ROMANCE RULES!
My pioneering place will be populated by yours truly and my like-fantasied sexual soulmates, all living, loving, learning, and working---together. One soul---inhabiting a buttload of bodies. "Better living through c!h!e!m!i!s!t!r!y!," I always say. We will build our own original version of something that works. Something that works smoothly.
My pioneering place will be populated by yours truly and my like-fantasied sexual soulmates, all living, loving, learning, and working---together. One soul---inhabiting a buttload of bodies. "Better living through c!h!e!m!i!s!t!r!y!," I always say. We will build our own original version of something that works. Something that works smoothly.
We will also help and support many other equally as unique Freaky Funkytime Love Cities. Colonies and Colonies of Bad-Assed Friends. Many mini heartbeat-crossroads of the rev. Yes, Ma'am, you're catching on: Sex Cities! Ecovillages ... with benefits. Freakovillage! Of course, there are other ways to prep for Paradise, but I am casting my ballot for the most playful way. Off the grid and down with our rickety, rotten moral fences and pretenses. Welcome to Project World Sexual Sanctuary: one souped-up and sexy super Sex Village at a time. We may all be created equal, but we are not ... all the same. Equal, but different. Equal, but strange. Very, very strange.
I'm not talking about sleepy communities of polite but uber private and essentially anonymous stranger neighbors who religiously shuffle to an impotent dirge till into the box they drop, but more of a thriving, thronging, and thonging, highly organized, Spring-break-spirited, command center enterprise of contributions from our grandest fan friends, our buddy adult friends who trade in the vital talents of pulling one's own weight while retaining the childlike, but not childish, attitude of adventure. What a treat, rolling through life with at our sides, our brave buds who ...AIN'T TOO SQUEAMISH TO DREAM. Them without dreams, seldom seen.
"The children!, the children!, oh, my, God, what about the children? Surely, Mr. Neptune, you aren't realistically expecting us to raise our kids in some kind of weird, bizarre SEX CULT, are you?"
And your point is?.... Seriously, ... a culture maybe, but not a cult. We will be way too kind and cute to be a cult. All folding chairs back onto the ground. Thank you. I completely understand your skepticism, hesitancy, and reluctance to embrace a ground-breaking innovation in the social realm, so please allow me a small moment of your time to try and clarify my view for you.
I'm not talking about sleepy communities of polite but uber private and essentially anonymous stranger neighbors who religiously shuffle to an impotent dirge till into the box they drop, but more of a thriving, thronging, and thonging, highly organized, Spring-break-spirited, command center enterprise of contributions from our grandest fan friends, our buddy adult friends who trade in the vital talents of pulling one's own weight while retaining the childlike, but not childish, attitude of adventure. What a treat, rolling through life with at our sides, our brave buds who ...AIN'T TOO SQUEAMISH TO DREAM. Them without dreams, seldom seen.
"The children!, the children!, oh, my, God, what about the children? Surely, Mr. Neptune, you aren't realistically expecting us to raise our kids in some kind of weird, bizarre SEX CULT, are you?"
And your point is?.... Seriously, ... a culture maybe, but not a cult. We will be way too kind and cute to be a cult. All folding chairs back onto the ground. Thank you. I completely understand your skepticism, hesitancy, and reluctance to embrace a ground-breaking innovation in the social realm, so please allow me a small moment of your time to try and clarify my view for you.
Our little ones can easily be kept from all that icky sex stuff until they are well, good, and ready, and do you want to know why? Because---EVERYDAY---we will be creating with and for them an actual experience-filled youth that's leaps and bounds more interesting than your usual, pitiful, artificial parental substitutes of lame TV, overdoses of video games and "smart"phones, and even the square-pegged mills called schoolhouses. Our "home"school will not be a boring, solely virtual/book-based, solitary homeschooling, but more of a WORLD-AS-HOMEschool that rocks 'n' rules. Our kids will be the all-stars in the game of life; they will be the modern day myths, the legends, their own superheroes; our kids will be in the movie, the "movie" of a compelling, useful, respectful, responsible and well-spent life. And when it comes proper and due time to teach our youngsters about sex, we will not pass, punt, nor kick the Sex Ed ball, and our adolescents' attitudes on sexuality will most likely be more informed and less hung up ... than yours', or your kids'---nyaaa!
Also, our kids will have a larger pool of real life role models to interact with for absorbing knowledge, guidance, and inspiration, rather than having to rely on the lone, thin wisdom of a single hereditary-ish family, no matter how spectacular it may be. The kids, our kids, will be alright---but it's YOU!, the parents, that I'm even more concerned about.
THE PARENTS!, THE PARENTS!, holy fuuu..., what about the god-forsaken parents? Surely, most, if not all, good parents would go through hell for their children, but wouldn't it be L-!-E-!-S-!-S H-!-E-!-L-!-L-!-I-!-S-!-H-! for the parents---and therefore the kids---if they built and resided in heaven instead? The answer, my chronically pummeled friends, to which we can all probably agree, is that in today's overwhelmed 2-parent state of affairs: it ain't gonna happen ... anytime soon. "Where gonna need a bigger boat." Bigger tribe-family boats, that is. One Soul---inhabiting a boatload of bodies.
Dear Mamas and Papas, Sistas and Brothas, you need some backup, backup, some serious, kick-assed reinforcements. Breaker, breaker, calling all backup buds. R-e-l-a-x. Take it easy. Take a load off. Sit for a spell. Win-win, it's not a sin. Wipe that fake smilely from off your face. Just exactly how many more generations and centuries must Mom and Dad keep on playing house? The same old squeaky, squirrel-wheel routine, over and over, slower and slower, screechier and screechier? Yep, you need: a tribe. Yep, you need S.U.P.P.O.R.T.. Yep, you need a big fat wide group of involved, knowledgeable or at least eager to learn, family of fan-friends who will fight hard for both YOU and your kids. Frequent not that lonely, rocky family road but glide more kindly upon the breezy freeway of vibe-tribe-pumped saints-on-steroids. Solo duo parental martyrdom: NO MO'. "It takes ... an army." An army of UR BWFFs**, bustin it 4U, 24/7/365. An all angelic army of ass, that is. Trooper tribe mates of common fates.
Also, our kids will have a larger pool of real life role models to interact with for absorbing knowledge, guidance, and inspiration, rather than having to rely on the lone, thin wisdom of a single hereditary-ish family, no matter how spectacular it may be. The kids, our kids, will be alright---but it's YOU!, the parents, that I'm even more concerned about.
THE PARENTS!, THE PARENTS!, holy fuuu..., what about the god-forsaken parents? Surely, most, if not all, good parents would go through hell for their children, but wouldn't it be L-!-E-!-S-!-S H-!-E-!-L-!-L-!-I-!-S-!-H-! for the parents---and therefore the kids---if they built and resided in heaven instead? The answer, my chronically pummeled friends, to which we can all probably agree, is that in today's overwhelmed 2-parent state of affairs: it ain't gonna happen ... anytime soon. "Where gonna need a bigger boat." Bigger tribe-family boats, that is. One Soul---inhabiting a boatload of bodies.
Dear Mamas and Papas, Sistas and Brothas, you need some backup, backup, some serious, kick-assed reinforcements. Breaker, breaker, calling all backup buds. R-e-l-a-x. Take it easy. Take a load off. Sit for a spell. Win-win, it's not a sin. Wipe that fake smilely from off your face. Just exactly how many more generations and centuries must Mom and Dad keep on playing house? The same old squeaky, squirrel-wheel routine, over and over, slower and slower, screechier and screechier? Yep, you need: a tribe. Yep, you need S.U.P.P.O.R.T.. Yep, you need a big fat wide group of involved, knowledgeable or at least eager to learn, family of fan-friends who will fight hard for both YOU and your kids. Frequent not that lonely, rocky family road but glide more kindly upon the breezy freeway of vibe-tribe-pumped saints-on-steroids. Solo duo parental martyrdom: NO MO'. "It takes ... an army." An army of UR BWFFs**, bustin it 4U, 24/7/365. An all angelic army of ass, that is. Trooper tribe mates of common fates.
**Bad-assed Warforior Friends For sure
"So, Mr. Neptune, do you really think that regular ole people can communicate, cooperate, and cohabit successfully enough to thrive or even just survive in a corpocratic $$$ MONEY IS KING $$$$ world?"
"So, Mr. Neptune, do you really think that regular ole people can communicate, cooperate, and cohabit successfully enough to thrive or even just survive in a corpocratic $$$ MONEY IS KING $$$$ world?"
So, hey, Mr. & Mrs. Doubters, savor and take a big ole whiff of this. The average CEO makes more loot before he takes his morning, uh, forgive me, "constitutional," than most of you or I make ALL YEAR LONG. Do the chiefs really need that much more crap than the rest of us? Do you really believe that any Company Man, even the nicest of the nicest, has the best interests of you and your family primarily in mind? Yeah? Well, lookie here at who's been swiggin on the Korporate Kool-Aid. B--u--r--p--! But, fortunately, here's the antidote: If you and I stop being played against each other, if you and I stop competing against each other, all in the name of the Kompany King Kongs, and begin to do more of a joint cooperatin' shindigamagig kind of thing, then eventually we'd ALL be as rich as the royals. But, of course, real wealth doesn't need to be measured solely in just personal money and stuff. ...Don't let it rest on the morally poor and ethically challenged's desk... SHARE THE WEALTH!,* BUT FREE RIDES: NAY, NO, NO THANX.
Let's give Big Money and Big Fama a bit of good and right, new-fashioned COOPERATION-"COMPETITION," shall we.
Let's offer up a far sweeter alternative to both, yes, both, the work life and the home life. To not want to try and tweak our occupational and family arrangements forward towards a more empowering, liberating experience, no matter what the scaredy cats want to call it, is just simply simple-minded sourpussyness.
Oh, boohoo, I do so hope that King Kapital Korp can handle the loss of a few billion choice slave-cogs from off the Master Money-Suck Machine. Helloooo!, if we can't be kinder to ourselves than the Corps---through DIO or DIFO, Doing It F'n Ourselves---then truly, truly, we deserve whatever DOO DOO that gets dumped our way.
Who's a Global Bobo? You's! a Global Bobo, if you believe and buy the Corporate dodo mumbo jumbo. Who's a Global Bobo? You's a loco Global Bobo, if you don't go and grow: local.
BAD: Richy-rich raping: the rest of us. And we take it, over and over, day in, day out, without anyone doing a thing to improve our lot, our share. Will the super-rich wake up one day with a brand-spankin-new expanded conscious and begin to invite the rest of us into their matters of abundance? I ... don't ... think ... so ... , because "their" bounty, their thievin, sneakin, and cheatin economic theory, their pollutin and plunderin, pirate philosophy is built on somebody else's back---yeah, that's right---our backs. And Mother Earth's back. But maybe, just maybe, one day, one crystal clear, blue, bright, sunshiny day... WE, WE, WE, We, we, we, the milked, the bilked, the pricked, the punched, the punked and hunched, the zipped, zapped, sapped and tapped can wake the zombie-zonk up and begin our own Cornucopian Community as well.
BETTER: Zero employees; no trickle-down, sugar-coated slavery, but all villagers as co-owners, co-rockers, as business partners, all sharing the risks, the rewards, and the rides. Whoopee!, yippee!, RIP employee, for I foresee, agree, and decree: a nonemployee jamboree. Entrepreneurs all. Hey, Mr. Man, I'm the first in line for leading a productive, useful life but: FUCK JOBS! Fuck mind-numbing, robotic jobs that robs one of a stimulating, discovery-filled life.
Build my dream, dream lovers. Build your dream. Build our dreams: TOGETHER. Together---WE can harmonize our gifts and abilities, producing a world that nears something akin to a ... supernatural grand slam.
We are not going completely back to the jungle, or cave, or all-out Amish. We will continue to wear clothes, and undergarments, and bathe, with hot showers, and smell nice, and look pretty. We will have houses, uh-huh, houses, with windows, and furniture, and plenty of modern conveniences---freako eco passion mansions.
Let's give Big Money and Big Fama a bit of good and right, new-fashioned COOPERATION-"COMPETITION," shall we.
Let's offer up a far sweeter alternative to both, yes, both, the work life and the home life. To not want to try and tweak our occupational and family arrangements forward towards a more empowering, liberating experience, no matter what the scaredy cats want to call it, is just simply simple-minded sourpussyness.
Oh, boohoo, I do so hope that King Kapital Korp can handle the loss of a few billion choice slave-cogs from off the Master Money-Suck Machine. Helloooo!, if we can't be kinder to ourselves than the Corps---through DIO or DIFO, Doing It F'n Ourselves---then truly, truly, we deserve whatever DOO DOO that gets dumped our way.
Who's a Global Bobo? You's! a Global Bobo, if you believe and buy the Corporate dodo mumbo jumbo. Who's a Global Bobo? You's a loco Global Bobo, if you don't go and grow: local.
BAD: Richy-rich raping: the rest of us. And we take it, over and over, day in, day out, without anyone doing a thing to improve our lot, our share. Will the super-rich wake up one day with a brand-spankin-new expanded conscious and begin to invite the rest of us into their matters of abundance? I ... don't ... think ... so ... , because "their" bounty, their thievin, sneakin, and cheatin economic theory, their pollutin and plunderin, pirate philosophy is built on somebody else's back---yeah, that's right---our backs. And Mother Earth's back. But maybe, just maybe, one day, one crystal clear, blue, bright, sunshiny day... WE, WE, WE, We, we, we, the milked, the bilked, the pricked, the punched, the punked and hunched, the zipped, zapped, sapped and tapped can wake the zombie-zonk up and begin our own Cornucopian Community as well.
BETTER: Zero employees; no trickle-down, sugar-coated slavery, but all villagers as co-owners, co-rockers, as business partners, all sharing the risks, the rewards, and the rides. Whoopee!, yippee!, RIP employee, for I foresee, agree, and decree: a nonemployee jamboree. Entrepreneurs all. Hey, Mr. Man, I'm the first in line for leading a productive, useful life but: FUCK JOBS! Fuck mind-numbing, robotic jobs that robs one of a stimulating, discovery-filled life.
Build my dream, dream lovers. Build your dream. Build our dreams: TOGETHER. Together---WE can harmonize our gifts and abilities, producing a world that nears something akin to a ... supernatural grand slam.
We are not going completely back to the jungle, or cave, or all-out Amish. We will continue to wear clothes, and undergarments, and bathe, with hot showers, and smell nice, and look pretty. We will have houses, uh-huh, houses, with windows, and furniture, and plenty of modern conveniences---freako eco passion mansions.
But de facto indoor incarceration---never again. Our office ... is the outdoors. Outdoor cats, all. "Walk the outer-style." "The will of Heaven is written upon the Earth:::::::::: with sunlight." We will be in nature but with the spiritually guided tech-tools of today's man, tomorrow's man---less invasive and less destructive---kinder tools, goddammit. Eco economics, it's the un-mean, green meme, if ya know what I mean. Altho "a green heart is required, a green thumb is not." Everybody's invited. From all walks of life. Every talent needed. Every skill welcomed. Come one, come all, because we're going to DO IT ALL. And have a ball.
Of course, WE CAN do this, and WE SHOULD do this, but if hands-on, here-now, real-time morals, ethics, justice, insta karma, and fairness mean anything, if living well, if living kindly is the best pay-forward Human Judgement Way, then---WE MUST do this. Right the wrongs ... with the thongs.
If WE build it, WE will ...................................................................................................................................................................................................... cum---and then some. And just exactly what are you holding on to? An ad-mad, mass-mall-marketing, dumpster-redundant, consumer-crunching culture of, hey, who's got the biggest pile of ess aych eye tee??? An alarm, shower, eat, car, job, eat again, kids, shop, house, fix, bills, cook, clean, eat some more, telly, web, phone here, phone there, phone everywhere, dutifully dull whoopie---if at all, bed, repeat, redo, repeat, redo, over and over, again and again, till ........ what!??? Come, come on over, my freako eco rock stars. Come on over and join the wild and wiggly side. Run!, run!, as fast as you can from Pharaoh's soulless, loveless, near life experience, and come quest awhile with your grand Pan pal, Johnny Neptune, and stars. ...The sexodus is here... That's right, we're leaving the arrogAnt, paraSitic, selfish, sHallOw, misLed, cowEd Sheep behind. We're leaving the dull life behind and boldly beginning The Big Fat Supernova Tribe Family of Reliable Rock Star Fan Friends. The old moral fabric: the geriatric, Jurassic, rheumatic fabric. The NEW moral fabric: the aromatic, chromatic, ecstatic fabric. A kinder and kinkier place to land. Be the destination. True Galactic Age approacheth---prepare for the mostest. There's much to be done. Sound impossible? Bull! "The difficult is easy. The really tough shit only takes ... a little longer." ...There's going to be a whole lot of dream weavin goin on...
Of course, WE CAN do this, and WE SHOULD do this, but if hands-on, here-now, real-time morals, ethics, justice, insta karma, and fairness mean anything, if living well, if living kindly is the best pay-forward Human Judgement Way, then---WE MUST do this. Right the wrongs ... with the thongs.
If WE build it, WE will ...................................................................................................................................................................................................... cum---and then some. And just exactly what are you holding on to? An ad-mad, mass-mall-marketing, dumpster-redundant, consumer-crunching culture of, hey, who's got the biggest pile of ess aych eye tee??? An alarm, shower, eat, car, job, eat again, kids, shop, house, fix, bills, cook, clean, eat some more, telly, web, phone here, phone there, phone everywhere, dutifully dull whoopie---if at all, bed, repeat, redo, repeat, redo, over and over, again and again, till ........ what!??? Come, come on over, my freako eco rock stars. Come on over and join the wild and wiggly side. Run!, run!, as fast as you can from Pharaoh's soulless, loveless, near life experience, and come quest awhile with your grand Pan pal, Johnny Neptune, and stars. ...The sexodus is here... That's right, we're leaving the arrogAnt, paraSitic, selfish, sHallOw, misLed, cowEd Sheep behind. We're leaving the dull life behind and boldly beginning The Big Fat Supernova Tribe Family of Reliable Rock Star Fan Friends. The old moral fabric: the geriatric, Jurassic, rheumatic fabric. The NEW moral fabric: the aromatic, chromatic, ecstatic fabric. A kinder and kinkier place to land. Be the destination. True Galactic Age approacheth---prepare for the mostest. There's much to be done. Sound impossible? Bull! "The difficult is easy. The really tough shit only takes ... a little longer." ...There's going to be a whole lot of dream weavin goin on...
*SHARE THE WEALTH!,
but firstly and mostly within our own collectively rocked sex village.
PROFITS AND PERSONAL WEALTH?
Yes, YES, merciful magnetic mountains of money, YES!!! But we be keepin our sex fantasies obscene, not our profits. Easy money, not sleazy money. The Wealth of Nations of the Funky Vibrations. Freako Eco Econ 101. Neptuno---the very best of capitalism: sensible self-interest, married to the very best of socialism: thoughtful group interest. Kind of like an unlikely pair of very different and stubborn-assed lovebirds, passionately consummating mid-flight, to the unbelievable and utter shock and gasping awe of us all. I'm not a capitalist---in the odiferous oink-oink sense---I'm a capitalpissed. I'm a "tad miffed" that a minority has the majority of the capital. I believe in and respect all private property, always, but with a conscientious exception-objection---not exclusive, excessive wealth made and reinvested without any consideration whatsoever of its non-owners. Take it easy and ratchet it back a bit, you anti-benign, moneybag swine, sirs. I'm not a socialist, I'm a mostalist. 1st most, I want for myself and my Fav Fan Friend Family. 2nd most, I want for my extended Fan Friend Families. 3rd most, I want for all the rest. All profits split fairly between each shareholding member of the sex tribe/village/city, just like shares of stock dividends? Tithing an unburdensome amount to a basket currency of all sister tribes in good standing? Reasonable assistance to the non-sex-tribed? Come on, count me in.
STUFF?
Personal items and things? Of course, silly worrier. Nonpersonal stuff that we can share with those who have earned our trust to use and take care of? We're not made of money. Thrifty, how nifty!
INCENTIVES
for our own hard work, efficiencies, and inventiveness? Putting our productivity gains into our own money? Minting our own "coin"? Love bucks. The bold standard. Hipcoin. Trading, bartering, buying, and selling within our own sex tribe, with other sex tribes, nearby neighbors, and those beyond? We better.
RUNNING OUR OWN BUSINESSES?
Manufacturing products and services that we really, really enjoy making or doing? Sounds like a plan.
GARDENS, GREENHOUSES, and GROVES?
Chicken coups, compost pits, and beehives? Fresh, nutrition-packed, organic meat, nut, egg, legume, herb, spice, fruit, and veggie-loaded gourmet cuisine, mastered from recipes served in all corners of the globe but grown right at home? Cool beans, when do we eat?
R & R?
Around the world World Tours? Site-seeing? Exploring? Walking, hiking, and biking paths aplenty? Pollution-free transportation? Hotels, BNBs, cabins, and camping for all of our guests, hailing from near or far? Generous downtime? 8 day weeks? Work 5, take 3 off? Three day weekends: every freakin week; one day for rest, one for chores, and one for pure play? No big whoop, gotta make new calendars anyway. Can't wait, I can start ... decades ago.
ART?
Crazy, weird, wonderful, and lots and lots of art? Awesome.
UNIQUE ARCHITECTURE?
Our own original village design? Every building, house, and structure designed to be one-of-a-kind, blow-your-mind? 'Nother no-brainer.
BOTANICAL SPLENDOR?
Nature supreme? Forests, flowers, plants, ponds, pastures, prairies, parks, grass, trees, streams, rivers, lakes, and bays? Animals, mammals, birds, bugs, and fish, ye Critter Kingdom, one and all? Landscape this, eco-engineer that. Scenic views and nature-soaked places and spaces galore? Nonpolluting campfires and communing with the night skies? Are you kidding me?
RECYCLE,
reduce, reuse? Scary trash dumps and landfills---a thing of the past? Need you ask.
PRISTINE WATER?
Yes!
DIY EDUCATION?
Practical, real life, cradle to grave, learning experiments and experiences in all things? Wonderful.
FAIRNESS?
All sides weighing in, either at the drop of a hat or with long-term councils on matters all? Discussions, debates, and decisions among peers? I say yea.
JUSTICE?
Practicing a more satisfying justice? Righting the wrongs ... of the errant ding-dongs? Case closed, I'm for that.
INNOVATIONS
into all self-sufficiencies? Redoing pretty much anything that sucks? Pumping the Creation? Doing the impossible, the unpossible? Thy Wills be done.
SIZZLING, HOT, ELECTRIC TELEPATHIC MIND SEX? Suuuuuuuuper superb.
...Take it hip to hip,
rock it into the wilderness...
xxx Johnny Neptune, The Love Gov from Columbus, January 18th, 2010, Revisi March 31, 2021. Orgies of Grand Order. "What ever you can do or think you can do, begin it, babe. Boldness has beauty, power, and magic in it." "Do what you can, love-warriors, with what you have, where you are." "To the Universe belongs: the dancer. Those who enter not the dance ... are clueless."
xxx Johnny Neptune, The Love Gov from Columbus, January 18th, 2010, Revisi March 31, 2021. Orgies of Grand Order. "What ever you can do or think you can do, begin it, babe. Boldness has beauty, power, and magic in it." "Do what you can, love-warriors, with what you have, where you are." "To the Universe belongs: the dancer. Those who enter not the dance ... are clueless."
