Look at Tag Larkin…March 22, 2010
Look at your man. Now look at Tag Larkin. Now back at your man. Now back at Tag Larkin. Sadly, your man is not Tag Larkin. And there’s also no chance of your man smelling like Tag Larkin either because Tag Larkin smells like awesome and winning and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
Look down. Look up. Where are you? You’re on a boat with the man you know as Tag Larkin, and he’s steering the wheel of this vessel with his cock because pants and underwear get in the way of Tag Larkin’s natural maritime skills. Did you know Tag Larkin owned a boat? He doesn’t. But it’s not size of the boat, or who owns it, that matters… it’s the motion of the ocean. But that’s not the ocean rocking your world down in the Captain’s quarters.
What’s in your hand? It’s gone. No, Tag Larkin has it. It’s a sandwich. And it has bacon. You love bacon. Close your eyes. Open them. The sandwich is now on Tag Larkin’s cock. You love Tag Larkin’s cock even more than bacon because bacon can’t steer a boat.
Look left, look right, look left again, now cross the street. Who’s there? It’s Tag Larkin. Weren’t you just on a boat? Not anymore. Things move fast when you’re with Tag Larkin. What’s that over there? Back here again. Where’s your bra? On the floor, unclasped with the power of Tag Larkin’s mind. Turn left. Turn right. Turn left again. Damn, you just missed it. Spin around. Go faster. Feeling dizzy? That’s what loving Tag Larkin feels like.
Anything is possible with Tag Larkin. Now hoist those sails and eat that sandwich. Tag Larkin is on a horse, and next he’ll be on you.