His name is Boris and he’s a badass motherfucker. Ruler of the high seas with a foot long seacock, he’s a sexual legend of the deep. Sure, he’s got the facial scars to prove it, but he lets his mythic fore-skinned first mate do all the talking. Wearing a classic ribbed cardigan made from the fittest wool shorn from marathon-running sheep, the Paco Camino Man always has seafaring foxes rubbing their perfect asses up against his impressive manhood and close-fitting stretch pants. He picked this one up 20 minutes ago when she flashed him the high beams from the first row at the regatta award ceremony (Boris won first prize in record time, of course). With her Toyko tuners set to stun, the Paco Camino Man is moments away from some plunging action below deck. Don’t come knocking if this boats a-rocking.
Monday, April 05, 2010
WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?
His name is Boris and he’s a badass motherfucker. Ruler of the high seas with a foot long seacock, he’s a sexual legend of the deep. Sure, he’s got the facial scars to prove it, but he lets his mythic fore-skinned first mate do all the talking. Wearing a classic ribbed cardigan made from the fittest wool shorn from marathon-running sheep, the Paco Camino Man always has seafaring foxes rubbing their perfect asses up against his impressive manhood and close-fitting stretch pants. He picked this one up 20 minutes ago when she flashed him the high beams from the first row at the regatta award ceremony (Boris won first prize in record time, of course). With her Toyko tuners set to stun, the Paco Camino Man is moments away from some plunging action below deck. Don’t come knocking if this boats a-rocking.
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