You're going to be. The At night she cries while he rides his steed, a romance novel for dudes, by Ross Patterson. An extremely muscular man with calves and forearms that have more definition than Noah Webster's dictionary bust through the saloon doors of a tasteful whorehouse

with a burlap sack full of gold slung over his shoulder. The doors explode off

their hinges into a shower of splinters.

The surprising thing about this muscular man is that he's lean too.

Not all rotted out like a New Jersey teenager, triple stacking a month before spring break.

You can see his cock pressing hard against his jeans,

almost fighting with the left pant leg mid-thigh.

It's not like the jeans are super tight or have some kind of euro cut that's just how big his penis is.

This man is me.

St. James Street, James. It's. When I'm a human fly I spend it in a while I say for the ball and I spend it in a while

I say for the bug and it's just because I'm a union lie,

and I don't know why.

I got 96 years 96, I has got a gun in six years 96 I got a gun in the frame

that's driving me in same

if I don't like a ride to wish to mess aside

and maybe I won't care because, I won't get it,

I don't scare, because I'm a reform magg it

using Jim War III.

Rock. rock. I'm a demon fly, I'm a fellow why.

I say but sous, I ain't as true me, because I'm a un-dept fly, and I don't know why.

Don't know why.

I don't know.

...