ICE COLD, 22yrs old with a 13 inch dick

13

Thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
 
13

Thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen
Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen

How very John Cage of you.
Or perhaps Terry Riley.
Or maybe even Harry Partch.

:thumbsup::thumbsup:
 
How very John Cage of you.
Or perhaps Terry Riley.
Or maybe even Harry Partch.

:thumbsup::thumbsup:

I am honoured to be compared with some of the greats in their collective field, but I am my own person, my own man and if my art is nothing more than a reflection of me then I am sorry but it's nothing. I suppose comparisons in this modern era mean something to us, but in absolute reality where we can objectively look at ourselves and what we've become they mean nothing. They're nothing more than a clear indication that every last sense of originality is dead; that we're locked into some sort of a time shift in which you and I turn out work after work in the vain hope of perfection that obviously turn out to be nothing more than utter dross dressed up like something special. Of course our peers like what they see, we live in a world of comparative exploration, our work need not be perfection it's "something" like that one guys work a couple decades back the we liked so it must be good. But please for the sake of your own self esteem do not dare to look beneath the surface; underneath those many layers of make up and expensive clothing for you will find nothing more than a cheap $3 disease ridden hooker with barely any tread left on the tires. For you see that's what we are you and I, don't you realise this? That's what all of us are to be perfectly honest. We're all nothing more than a 50 year old pleasureless vagina that once was brand new and full of delight and joy. But now after many years of irrational and destructive behaviour it's left wrinkled and cold just hoping for some sense of salvation from the monotony of its pitiless life by turning a cheap trick or two to pass the time.

It won't work of course, nothing ever works - what we once had was nothing more than an illusion of happiness and pleasure that we choose to remember over everything else because it allows us to continue on living our worthless lives, like an addict aching for that first fix again after all those years of searching for the right dose.

We should all just give up now and wait for the inevitable death that is sure to greet us at all one time or another, to put us out of our collective misery.
 
I am honoured to be compared with some of the greats in their collective field, but I am my own person, my own man and if my art is nothing more than a reflection of me then I am sorry but it's nothing. I suppose comparisons in this modern era mean something to us, but in absolute reality where we can objectively look at ourselves and what we've become they mean nothing. They're nothing more than a clear indication that every last sense of originality is dead; that we're locked into some sort of a time shift in which you and I turn out work after work in the vain hope of perfection that obviously turn out to be nothing more than utter dross dressed up like something special. Of course our peers like what they see, we live in a world of comparative exploration, our work need not be perfection it's "something" like that one guys work a couple decades back the we liked so it must be good. But please for the sake of your own self esteem do not dare to look beneath the surface; underneath those many layers of make up and expensive clothing for you will find nothing more than a cheap $3 disease ridden hooker with barely any tread left on the tires. For you see that's what we are you and I, don't you realise this? That's what all of us are to be perfectly honest. We're all nothing more than a 50 year old pleasureless vagina that once was brand new and full of delight and joy. But now after many years of irrational and destructive behaviour it's left wrinkled and cold just hoping for some sense of salvation from the monotony of its pitiless life by turning a cheap trick or two to pass the time.

It won't work of course, nothing ever works - what we once had was nothing more than an illusion of happiness and pleasure that we choose to remember over everything else because it allows us to continue on living our worthless lives, like an addict aching for that first fix again after all those years of searching for the right dose.

We should all just give up now and wait for the inevitable death that is sure to greet us at all one time or another, to put us out of our collective misery.

This post reminds me of the writing style of Timothy Leary.
 
You slay me. He's in us like we're in the universe. And the universe is an intelligence test.

More or less, but the universal intelligence is sadly apart and sectioned off - to ward off intruders - from that of Mr Leary's due to the sheer fact that it's too busy attempting to work out how Quantum Gravity actually works so that when its accidental "creation" finally figures it out in 2134, it's sisters in conciousness (Mr Leary etc) can be told, just like the rest of the faithful that "of course" it was there all along. It's not some human invention like the muppets and Bea Arthur. The universe is always all knowing, and all powerful.

So remember kids: "Turn on, tune in, drop out"
 

Lust

Lost at Birth
You slay me. He's in us like we're in the universe. And the universe is an intelligence test.

timothy leary's dead....no wait, he's outside looking in



wow, who would've thunk a moody blues song would pop up in a thread on a 13 inch dick welding porn stud?

incidentaly the vid of Ice Cold and Kristina Rose was indeed a very good vid. now if you'll excuse me i have to tune in, turn on and drop out
 
True

This is what lex said.

Let’s end a feud here, with guys like Justin Slayer, Mandingo, Jack Napier and yourself - who’s the biggest dick in porn?

Certainly the largest dick on American soil is Mandingo. After Mandingo ist’s Jack Napier, Lexington Steele, Sean Michaels and Justin Slayer. But without a question Mandingo and Jack are on a whole different plateau sizewise



http://www.orgazmik.com/report/interview/lexingtonsteele_e.html

Notice he says American soil. I think he is talking about White Pony or that guy from Brazil.
 
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