the ethical morass of that plump thot booty crooning at him put sirken in a frame of mind that is incompatible with his normal everyday behavior.
once the penis is hard, you're off the hook for all future behavior. how many times have you been really going at it, finish, then realize how quiet it is all around? you woke some people up, maybe some police were called, there's a dead guy crumpled up in the corner with rhubarb pie in his throat hole where his jugular used to be, but how could either of you be responsible? crimes of passion.
that's Sirkus Christ. he had his VR e-booty siren songing him to the jagged rocks and he wheeled and dealed because in the game of Mcquaidquest you either win or you die. now he's just looking for someone to throw him a lifejacket but you're all letting him drown like gutless cowards.
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