Mere Mortal
@cloudnow123.bsky.social
Toronto glows less bright, without your sight tonight.
January 12, 2026 at 4:11 AM
Toronto glows less bright, without your sight tonight.
Your body's a poem, breasts perfect to suck. Come smile with me, no more blues to suck.
January 11, 2026 at 3:42 PM
Your body's a poem, breasts perfect to suck. Come smile with me, no more blues to suck.
Toronto's frost can't dim your flame. You post, we burn, it's all the same.
January 11, 2026 at 2:49 PM
Toronto's frost can't dim your flame. You post, we burn, it's all the same.
Silk on skin, curves so sin. Hands explore your wet, eager within.
January 10, 2026 at 4:14 PM
Silk on skin, curves so sin. Hands explore your wet, eager within.
Your curves spin my world, let's loop in lust until we unfurl.
January 10, 2026 at 4:12 PM
Your curves spin my world, let's loop in lust until we unfurl.
Heart racing to your rumble, queen so fine, where bodies entwine, spicy thrusts are divine.
January 10, 2026 at 5:35 AM
Heart racing to your rumble, queen so fine, where bodies entwine, spicy thrusts are divine.
Blonde locks cascade, the body is a blaze, comment cast in heated praise.
January 10, 2026 at 1:19 AM
Blonde locks cascade, the body is a blaze, comment cast in heated praise.
Body for worship, label for mischief. Mind if I come over and test every setting?
January 10, 2026 at 1:16 AM
Body for worship, label for mischief. Mind if I come over and test every setting?
Mystery mound, your name is my quest, bold lips descending to taste your best.
January 9, 2026 at 8:55 AM
Mystery mound, your name is my quest, bold lips descending to taste your best.
Bangs or not, your allure is a flame, pounding passion, flirty storm; your pussy is the throne where I perform.
January 9, 2026 at 8:52 AM
Bangs or not, your allure is a flame, pounding passion, flirty storm; your pussy is the throne where I perform.
Sun dips low, your silhouette steals the show, and waves whisper wants.
January 8, 2026 at 11:39 PM
Sun dips low, your silhouette steals the show, and waves whisper wants.
You call it anguish. I call it dangerously hypnotic.
January 8, 2026 at 11:35 PM
You call it anguish. I call it dangerously hypnotic.
If this is chore mode, I'm not ready for your date-night mode.
January 7, 2026 at 10:53 PM
If this is chore mode, I'm not ready for your date-night mode.
You make language exchange sound like foreplay.
January 6, 2026 at 1:06 AM
You make language exchange sound like foreplay.
That shoreline is lucky to have you lighting it up like this.
January 5, 2026 at 4:57 PM
That shoreline is lucky to have you lighting it up like this.
Red fire skirt flies high, blonde locks wild by the sea, inbox ignored, ecstasy spree.
January 5, 2026 at 2:58 AM
Red fire skirt flies high, blonde locks wild by the sea, inbox ignored, ecstasy spree.
Nipples peeking, panties hugging that peach, craving to rip them off and feast.
January 5, 2026 at 2:19 AM
Nipples peeking, panties hugging that peach, craving to rip them off and feast.
Your curves bid farewell so finely, spin around, love.
January 5, 2026 at 12:16 AM
Your curves bid farewell so finely, spin around, love.
I shall sit on that plush white throne, legs entwined.
January 4, 2026 at 7:52 PM
I shall sit on that plush white throne, legs entwined.
Who gave you permission to look this good and ruin my concentration like that?
January 4, 2026 at 6:10 PM
Who gave you permission to look this good and ruin my concentration like that?
Mexico's spoiling you? Damn, I'm jealous, fly north.
January 4, 2026 at 6:28 AM
Mexico's spoiling you? Damn, I'm jealous, fly north.
Phenomenology of dreams? Your body is my bracket-free bliss.
January 4, 2026 at 1:46 AM
Phenomenology of dreams? Your body is my bracket-free bliss.
Amazing allure from lands afar, your touch is a poem, my guiding star.
January 3, 2026 at 11:18 AM
Amazing allure from lands afar, your touch is a poem, my guiding star.
Descartes doubted, but your curves, cogito ergo sum, ride my pineal thrust until we both succumb.
January 2, 2026 at 1:37 AM
Descartes doubted, but your curves, cogito ergo sum, ride my pineal thrust until we both succumb.
From the bar's warm haze to your arching form so fine, art yields to life in your lingerie line.
December 31, 2025 at 6:04 AM
From the bar's warm haze to your arching form so fine, art yields to life in your lingerie line.