Friday, March 26, 2010


1 comment:

  1. I think the gods probably study Jesse Santana's ejaculation patterns with the acutest interest, as you watch his partner allowing an unobstructed view in frame 12, much as major-league pitchers tried to anticipate the hits of Ty Cobb, or Rommel pondered the question of the Allied landing in 1944. Sectors of the Santanaface and torso, and indeed the wall behind, are minutely graphed to plot the dispersion of his spew, either from bottoming or topping, or merely exerting himself in solitary celebration of dick and all its wonders. From these studies it is possible to correlate the qualities which the evolution of our species will favour, and which all males, at least, will laud as progressive. Let us return, then, to the scene of Jesse's valiant penis stropping, enduring the hot breath of Apollo peering over our shoulder, and trace the gracious arc of this extraction for ourselves.