If the phallistic cult is still alive, then I am a deeply religious person.) Each cock has a special place in my imaginable iconostasis. A nourishing penis is the moral compass of my religion. And as far as I am supercompetent in penises, I am always ready to perform a hot confession ritual, so that you would believe into sex.

Yet male genitals in my chat, while me with my friends watching "Green Mile", makes me a little bit confused, because my competence doesn't cover primate neuropsychology. I'm still more into mental, then biological. Therefore, the best way to impress me is: to send me a money transfer or at least a bouquet of red roses instead of dick pics.))) In the name of the World Bank, the almighty Dollar and the Holy Dick. Amen.)