Jazzmin Flush (96)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (96)"
    
   Bodaciously bouncing BOOBS--yup, Thomas was regally reminded of sweetly scoping, sooooo kinda truly, Jazzmin's holy cupcakes--freckled, little sprinkles ornamenting the mammary flesh.  And what did Tim Allen, the comedian of ancient days kinda/sorta voice concerning the magical misfit movie that uplifted a mental midget--it dubbed:  FORREST GUMP?  "Mamma told me--life is like a box of hand grenades--sooner or later, you're gonna blow the hell out of something."
   Alas, Thomas reflected more, swallowing a squirming mouse and the wiggling tail, burping remembrance, like:  I napalmed myself in the macabre past with guilt and grief.  Regardless, he liked being a quasi-Saint gone dejected, ascetic, and yet deserving of the holy training known as suffering; indeed, Thomas needed that unique suffering and megatons of humility to not hungrily hump and hunt human tail, wisely knowing:  The Wolf Totem is not purely about savagery and painfully desired sex--it sings a song concerning loyalty and taking chances to play beyond the pack.  Thus, he went back inside the hotel, taking his white paw and igniting the elevator button.  Looked back with his arctic-blue eyes, noticing again--the witch did have remarkably nice breasts, so perky and full of spirit behind the confines of a tight-pulled, purple sweater.