Practice! Practice! Practice!
Hell if I was banging David Beckham I’d be practicing too.
I hear that sometimes, the taste of cock can linger.
Ha! I was gonna say, must have been a thicky. :D
I don’t know who he’s signaling but apparently there ARE people shorter than him…
You know the way he only looks five foot six? I’m doing that with my mind! Scientology rocks!
It’s L. Ron’s ghost that’s popping that out.
I think he’s inviting the valet to visit his room.
He misses that feeling. His mouth gets so lonely when he goes out pretending to be strai– I MEAN MOVING MOUNTAINS WITH HIS MIND.
There’s just something stuck in his teeth.
Just a little dick!
“Hmmm…Travolta’s right! It does taste like chicken.”
I see the meeting with Mischavige went well.
Missing: 1 Suri & 1 Kate. Bye-bye.
From the looks of that sweater, he’s been following Travolta to the boy’s department, again.
Let’ try this one more time: There’s not a jawbreaker in his mouth, John left 15 minutes ago. But oh… what an “imprint” he left!
Scientology’s messiah wears a v-neck and Ray Bans. Your move Christianity.
Oh look, a gay squirrel keeping nuts in his mouth.
He just saw the cage that shelley miscavige is being kept in
nice rack, tom
Man, those thetan ulcers will get you just when you least expect them to.
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