"IT'S ME, EITENLEIKER HORST-MANURE! I WRITE IN ALL-CRAPS BECAUSE, IS DER GERMAN WAY! I AM DER BIG FAT DESCENDANT OF DER MASTUR-BATE. ER, RACE. MEIN GRUNT MUDDER WAS IN DER JOY DIVISION.
"ANYHOO, POSTING ON DER GOOTUBE SHOWIN MEIN GOODIES AIN'T ENOUGH. I AXED IF I COULD POST ON DIS BLOCK AMONG UDDERS. I AM ZO PROUD OF MEIN SELF. I DRESS UP IN MEIN COSTUME, UND BABBLE LIKE MERKEL WITH SOMALI MEN'S CUM IN HER MOUTH.
"EVERY TING I BUY NEEDS TO BE DOCUMINTED!! EVERY TING I DO IS, HOW YOU ANGLE-STERS SAY, DER SHIT! DER BOMB! BAD! I YAM ONE BIG GERMAN YAM, UND MY POTATO BODY UND CABBAGE-SHAPED HEAD MIT DER SAURKRAUT BEARD AND HEIR MUST BE SEEN! UND OB-SEEN AGAIN AND AGAIN!
"EVERY TING I BUY NEEDS TO BE DOCUMINTED!! EVERY TING I DO IS, HOW YOU ANGLE-STERS SAY, DER SHIT! DER BOMB! BAD! I YAM ONE BIG GERMAN YAM, UND MY POTATO BODY UND CABBAGE-SHAPED HEAD MIT DER SAURKRAUT BEARD AND HEIR MUST BE SEEN! UND OB-SEEN AGAIN AND AGAIN!
"SPEAKING OF DER SCHMUTZ, I VUN AN AUCTION FOR DER SOILED KNICKERS ON DER EBAY! HERE IZ PHOTOGENIC ME, ALL DRESSED UP TO OPEN DER BOX! I AM WEARING SUSPENDERS ON MY SHOULDERS AND HEH HEH AROUND MEIN GIGANTIC WAIST. I GOT ZO EXITED BY DER SMELL FROM DER BOX, I RIPPED IT OPEN MIT MY BARE MITTS!
"YAH! 36 PEEPLE VATCHED DIS. DEY LIKE TO SEE VAT DER BIG PIGGIE WHO LIVES IN DER HOUSE MADE OF BRICKS BLEW HIS MONEY ON NEXT! IT VAS UND PAIR OF DER BRIEFS! DER PANTIES! DER KROTCHEN-SWABBERS! DER STINKENETTING! YAH!
"YUM! CRAZIES UND GENTLEMEN, ALL DER WAY FRUM AMERIKA, MID DER DRIED VA-JAY-JUICE UND SCHMEARS OF SCHMUTZ! MY NOSTRILS WERE COILED UND DEN WIDENED LIKE DER SPHINCTER! YAH! OOOH! I SOILED DER PAIR I VAS VEARING, JUST LOOKIN UND SMELLIN.
"YOUTUBE WON'T LET ME SHOW YOU ME TOOTIN MY OWN HORN WHILE SNIFFIN UND WHIFFIN. TRUST ME, MEIN WEINER (I NAMED DER LITTLE THING "ANTHONY") GOT UN WORKOUT! IT SPURT IN MEIN BEARD I SO EGG SIGHTED! AUF WEINER-SANE FOR NOW, MEIN KINDER. I POST NINE MORE, NEIN, TEN MORE, TO MORROW!!"
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Hello, I'm one of Devin Wenig's used panty whores. He's a pimp (he takes money from sex workers). Devil can say he doesn't know what's going on, and that as CEO of EBAY he has better and more corrupt things to do. The fact is, if you take a percentage of what a woman makes by doing sex work, you are a pimp!
While selling this stuff on EBAY is technically illegal, ha ha ho ho hee hee, EBAY does not patrol the site. Almost nobody knows how to complain to them (they are as secretive as Scientologists). If they do get complaints they might not do anything. If the warnings and restrictions pile up, and I get suspended, I come back with an alias the next day!
I'm posting just to confirm that Eat-and-Licker Horst-Manure (as I call him) is a real obese clueless self-absorbed human sponge. That's not a mask he's wearing. That's not a fictional monster being tested by Troma films.
This guy buys so much, I can't keep up with him myself. I have four St. Bernard dogs, and I put panties on them and only change them once a week. Horst doesn't know the difference.
Horst has a bum eye. He shoved his face into the bum of some Dresden prostitute, and she farted into his eye. Somehow it got infected. I think he also has brain farts now. Do I care? Hell no. He's got money, thanks to his grandparents stealing from Jews during World War II. He's got gold teeth he hasn't even melted down yet!
I think he is color blind. He always asks me for panties that match his brown shirt (the one with the Nazi insignia). I just send him whatever tat I pick up at the charity shop and wear, or that my dogs wear.
I think he is color blind. He always asks me for panties that match his brown shirt (the one with the Nazi insignia). I just send him whatever tat I pick up at the charity shop and wear, or that my dogs wear.
I do try to remember to buy large sizes, as Horst loves to wear my undies, and they tend to stretch and rip when he tries to get them up his tremendous horsey thighs. They instantly fall apart when he puts them over his enormous elephantine head for better sniffing.
Knickers that fit Horst slide off me and the St. Bernards. If he INSISTS on those size 12 jobs, I go to the local hospice and find some half-comatose incontinent obese bitch to wear them. The trouble is, some of them have dried up snatches, so for that ripe pussy smell I have to drip tuna oil in the crotch. It's a bit too much work.
Knickers that fit Horst slide off me and the St. Bernards. If he INSISTS on those size 12 jobs, I go to the local hospice and find some half-comatose incontinent obese bitch to wear them. The trouble is, some of them have dried up snatches, so for that ripe pussy smell I have to drip tuna oil in the crotch. It's a bit too much work.
Christ, what a life I lead! At least it's not a boring life of useless consumption like Horst's. He dressed up in his Dr. Demento outfits, with the white shirts and red ties and all that, and thinks he's a celebrity because he has a GooTube channel.
It's a weird world. All you have to do is say, "I'm on the Internet, I have a blog...I have a GooTube channel...I have a million Instagram followers..." and some idiots think that means something. JESUS! Well, speaking of JESUS, I'm going to church to pray that Horst keeps on being a brain-damaged lonely virgin blimp. (I keed, I keed, he's not a blimp, he's a dirigible.)
It's a weird world. All you have to do is say, "I'm on the Internet, I have a blog...I have a GooTube channel...I have a million Instagram followers..." and some idiots think that means something. JESUS! Well, speaking of JESUS, I'm going to church to pray that Horst keeps on being a brain-damaged lonely virgin blimp. (I keed, I keed, he's not a blimp, he's a dirigible.)
I love to go to church wearing the panties I've worn for three days in a row. Nobody comes near me and I sit in my own pew.
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