I fantasise about Americunt soldiers being mutilated and blown up. It's sexually exciting. It's an addiction, like a psychedelic drug that stimulates my mind. I lay awake pondering about the 22 US terrorists committing suicide daily figure. I yearn for more. I hope to watch their final moments, imagining the intense and exhilarating experience. I feel elated thinking about the Americunts that were blasted. I romanticise situations where the spastics suffer dearly. I envision them struggling and dying from misery and a pool of their own blood, oxygen cut off etc. I watch a handful of curated videos religiously. They depict blood and gore of Americunt "soldiers". I masturbate amidst severe excitement, attempting to time my ejaculation at the precise moment of impact where blood, guts and brain matter are dispersed everywhere. The crack and the orgasmic sound of fear in their voice resonates through my mind before transcending throughout every fiber of my being, like an electric current. I touch myself to dead Americunt "soldiers". I once urinated on the tombstone of one. I should have excavated the body and dressed it up in an array of costumes before decapitation. Some hungry pigs could have fed on the worthless remains.
When I see a bunch of Americunt terrorists carrying a toolbox with a flag wrapped around it, I hope for it being rigged with explosives. I have a fetish for it causing ultimate mayhem. Pieces going everywhere, then several hours later an acid-like rain descending onto the setting that causes it all to disintegrate. I want to be a witness to the brutality where it's burnt into my conscious mind, thus I have recurring flashbacks of the event where it constantly replays with an emphasis on every aspect. The split second swift switch from shock to acute fear (due to the element of surprise) is imperative for receiving a high level of invigorating satisfaction.
HOLY FUCK I NEED IT crawls into screen MINEEEE
ReplyDeleteI had this before
ReplyDeleteYassss
ReplyDeleteI want this for my bday!!!!! #amazing
ReplyDeleteI can get this I live in Brooklyn!
ReplyDeleteI need this that looks soo good
ReplyDeleteWhen you want diabetes:
ReplyDeleteGood
ReplyDeleteDam that's tight
ReplyDeleteOh yeah I saw this in the news
ReplyDeleteWHERE CAN I GET THIS
ReplyDeleteBut that means the pizza was touching things...
ReplyDeleteI just cried. And my mum asked, I went look. She laughed
ReplyDeleteWow 😍
ReplyDeleteWow I want it Now
ReplyDeleteI love this already <3
ReplyDeleteHere in Borden, Indiana, we get the same exact thing as this.
ReplyDeleteHAHAHA LOL👽
ReplyDeleteEw theres white on it
ReplyDeleteI fantasise about Americunt soldiers being mutilated and blown up. It's sexually exciting. It's an addiction, like a psychedelic drug that stimulates my mind. I lay awake pondering about the 22 US terrorists committing suicide daily figure. I yearn for more. I hope to watch their final moments, imagining the intense and exhilarating experience. I feel elated thinking about the Americunts that were blasted. I romanticise situations where the spastics suffer dearly. I envision them struggling and dying from misery and a pool of their own blood, oxygen cut off etc. I watch a handful of curated videos religiously. They depict blood and gore of Americunt "soldiers". I masturbate amidst severe excitement, attempting to time my ejaculation at the precise moment of impact where blood, guts and brain matter are dispersed everywhere. The crack and the orgasmic sound of fear in their voice resonates through my mind before transcending throughout every fiber of my being, like an electric current. I touch myself to dead Americunt "soldiers". I once urinated on the tombstone of one. I should have excavated the body and dressed it up in an array of costumes before decapitation. Some hungry pigs could have fed on the worthless remains.
ReplyDeleteWhen I see a bunch of Americunt terrorists carrying a toolbox with a flag wrapped around it, I hope for it being rigged with explosives. I have a fetish for it causing ultimate mayhem. Pieces going everywhere, then several hours later an acid-like rain descending onto the setting that causes it all to disintegrate. I want to be a witness to the brutality where it's burnt into my conscious mind, thus I have recurring flashbacks of the event where it constantly replays with an emphasis on every aspect. The split second swift switch from shock to acute fear (due to the element of surprise) is imperative for receiving a high level of invigorating satisfaction.