Enlightenment of the Venus conus

Metallized it was born on the sun at night, illuminated by Windows Vista Worldwide and its own aluminium, I say, conoid and unfathomable like the enlightenment of the Venus cunt: the enlightenment of the Venus conus.
So in nights when the star is bathed by the yoghurt of the Moon, it becomes penetrable fleshh adored by the sailors, who abuse of its inflated concavity and its carneous elasticity that provoked eponymous battle in Heavens among the satyriasied gods and Polyphemus volant, inenarrable beest who disfigured the goddess Palllas by means of cuchillos and shouts.

Profundo, profundísimo, oval! Vertigo-vorágine-voracity-vortex, hard in steely clit and pristine like mirror of platinum where the witches shave:
the Venus cunt in the sky! The sons of the men scream, erect, stainless, blinding!
The Venus cunt in the sky! The shepherds sigh, exuberant, viciosa, garchable... aa aa aand it's like a tomb for the cunt worm, her fuckapple:
and it doesn't travel through the zodiacal niche such that twat-shaped satellite that the flying radiolaboratories of the primitive men saw passing by?

Epilogue 'n' epopee joined hands when a climax of spotlights illumed that concha, which presided the astra from its heights, as Mars god of erections had to be emasculated because of the so much cum emitted, which was inundating the lustral 'n' mosaicized Olympial doorhalls.