John Smith
Well-Known Member
Old but still lit.
I don't know if that commercial ad seeks to doing some sarcastic middle finger to the extreme thiness cult in fashion industry or on contrary to doing some fatphobic gag about waif-figured models using all kind of cheatings for avoid the most possible to getting markedly fuller-figured just for subliminally got complexed any female person who doesn't fitting into that dominant beauty standard but... just HEARD these splatteringly-sounding squashing loud effects immediatly the vaccum released all the adipose from her somehow-tightly garmented waistline once the photoshoot done, showing these toned curves collapsing each other ,rolls after rolls, in a truly raz-de-maree of spashings & poundings evocative from an echoing hidden vision of Titanomachy...*
lithe toned yet prettily endowed columns of legs fleshing out cartoonishly at a furious pace to the point of annunciate at loud trumpet for any inner Samson among us Kingdom's Come to thighs rubbing together same at simultaneously her skinny arms were soon engulfing part after part by fluffy yet baggy amount of rushing flesh beating squishingly against the growing rolls from her not-so-apple-sized-anymore plentiful bust which not though sassiated by their Botticellician perkiness just dissatisfiedly swollen up overwhelming from their own in one's more eyelid, overhanging saggily their impressively pouring-out cleavage as much umbrageous as the depths of some spellbound canyon below the scarlet cups from that seemingly-yet all-fitting bikini upon that distended blubber of pale wholeness surging itself her whole rotund glory that we could once though it seemed, one heartpace of travesty lifetime ago, named it that iconoclast beachbody tummy. Perhaps unconsciously self-adjusting herself a bit from that latest overwillowy butterball shaping maybe quite harmful for her poor nape or perhaps just wanting loose a bit the pression with class, she nodded backwards her head all in shacking fashionably the ash lighter hues from that rainfall of wavy dark blonde hairs as her angelic frame billowed ponderously since these abyss of surging tremor invading at a wrathful ripple motion her enlarging self, from the darkened crease of her juvenile gaze to her swallowed-up neck now gone like by magic by these sudden creases of delicious wreckles onto her porcine, lusty cheeks merging confusingly their features with the devouring circumvolution of her triple chin thanks to her ivory smile, giving as much to her present stand some much conspicuously burdensome yield straight back from her ginormous middlesection threatening soon to overfilling even further more the lower belly beneath the bottom bikini...*
What is happens thus from that surprizing decloaking of woman staggeringly looped out oneself of madness their wiggling of secrets with that ironically-unburden allure she have behind that mindblowing, spiraling-out-of-control coup de theatre but otherwise philosophing about some forbidden Venus from time immemorial lied some tiny particle of merciful fire from her shining aethereal complexion inside that blemish vessel of idol seeking maybe naively, maybe inoccently nay ignorantly to eclipse out the primeval Aspara with her ridiculously retouched, relatively-"racy" pinup silhouette...? From who now between Andromeda or Cetos the taboo became true? From what enigmatic - ecstatic? - self-enjoyed allure her cherubic face tries to unveil behind the frenetic jiggle of her ginormous tummy rolls packeted each other while she heftily sway forwards with her yet clumsy, near-exhausting, catwalking-wannabe waddle...?
I couldn't stopping to be bewitched between lust and meditative retrospection for that ad.
https://youtu.be/t_3oIy5jAG0
I don't know if that commercial ad seeks to doing some sarcastic middle finger to the extreme thiness cult in fashion industry or on contrary to doing some fatphobic gag about waif-figured models using all kind of cheatings for avoid the most possible to getting markedly fuller-figured just for subliminally got complexed any female person who doesn't fitting into that dominant beauty standard but... just HEARD these splatteringly-sounding squashing loud effects immediatly the vaccum released all the adipose from her somehow-tightly garmented waistline once the photoshoot done, showing these toned curves collapsing each other ,rolls after rolls, in a truly raz-de-maree of spashings & poundings evocative from an echoing hidden vision of Titanomachy...*
lithe toned yet prettily endowed columns of legs fleshing out cartoonishly at a furious pace to the point of annunciate at loud trumpet for any inner Samson among us Kingdom's Come to thighs rubbing together same at simultaneously her skinny arms were soon engulfing part after part by fluffy yet baggy amount of rushing flesh beating squishingly against the growing rolls from her not-so-apple-sized-anymore plentiful bust which not though sassiated by their Botticellician perkiness just dissatisfiedly swollen up overwhelming from their own in one's more eyelid, overhanging saggily their impressively pouring-out cleavage as much umbrageous as the depths of some spellbound canyon below the scarlet cups from that seemingly-yet all-fitting bikini upon that distended blubber of pale wholeness surging itself her whole rotund glory that we could once though it seemed, one heartpace of travesty lifetime ago, named it that iconoclast beachbody tummy. Perhaps unconsciously self-adjusting herself a bit from that latest overwillowy butterball shaping maybe quite harmful for her poor nape or perhaps just wanting loose a bit the pression with class, she nodded backwards her head all in shacking fashionably the ash lighter hues from that rainfall of wavy dark blonde hairs as her angelic frame billowed ponderously since these abyss of surging tremor invading at a wrathful ripple motion her enlarging self, from the darkened crease of her juvenile gaze to her swallowed-up neck now gone like by magic by these sudden creases of delicious wreckles onto her porcine, lusty cheeks merging confusingly their features with the devouring circumvolution of her triple chin thanks to her ivory smile, giving as much to her present stand some much conspicuously burdensome yield straight back from her ginormous middlesection threatening soon to overfilling even further more the lower belly beneath the bottom bikini...*
What is happens thus from that surprizing decloaking of woman staggeringly looped out oneself of madness their wiggling of secrets with that ironically-unburden allure she have behind that mindblowing, spiraling-out-of-control coup de theatre but otherwise philosophing about some forbidden Venus from time immemorial lied some tiny particle of merciful fire from her shining aethereal complexion inside that blemish vessel of idol seeking maybe naively, maybe inoccently nay ignorantly to eclipse out the primeval Aspara with her ridiculously retouched, relatively-"racy" pinup silhouette...? From who now between Andromeda or Cetos the taboo became true? From what enigmatic - ecstatic? - self-enjoyed allure her cherubic face tries to unveil behind the frenetic jiggle of her ginormous tummy rolls packeted each other while she heftily sway forwards with her yet clumsy, near-exhausting, catwalking-wannabe waddle...?
I couldn't stopping to be bewitched between lust and meditative retrospection for that ad.
https://youtu.be/t_3oIy5jAG0
