The President's Exterior

The presidents stands for everything a foorapes adds up to. She is powerfull, lovely, full of gass and other liquids, she boozes like foorapes in foorapes in a desert surrounded by gallons of Kronenbourg 1664. She carresses our asses and takes us to landscapes unimagened by our tiny foorape brains. No matter her age - born in 1963 - this baby knows how to please a foorape. Powerfull but gracious, old but with a style no twenty year old could accomodate for. A genuine booze chick but never too drunk to deny a foorape in her interior. Her black, smooth body is always available, no matter when, where or why. She is more than a refuge of a world consisting of deskjobs, shopping malls, girly reality tv and conversations of commitment. The president is our mother, our mistress, our home. She amounts to everything a foorape could ever desire our conceive of. This baby has a preference for clear spaces, for territories almost unexplored by man for desolate landscapes and smalltime french roads crossing smalltime french towns. In these barren lands, she roams and roars like the black oily lionnes she is.

And Once again ...

My Friend ...

We FORE

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