Sunday, December 20, 2009

Red Eye More Condition_symptoms Baby

The Christmas spirit in a scaldapene


The Christmas atmosphere m'insinua a germ hopping of helpless anguish. All that shimmer intermittent and useless. Smell of damp earth and moss velvet, collected early in the morning, to fill the crib. And then embalmed sheep, a cave of cardboard, shepherds with bagpipes and the expression frighteningly fixed , crossed into space. Quell'arbusto lame, at best decorated, all surmounted, arousing feelings of poverty sterile.
I also had to make gifts. My father snuffed and swore, quai was a fierce-looking beast. And I knew how it was life, six years. Mooing robots and electric tracks of hatred, just like the angry face the color of pomegranate. I guessed the ideas of unintentional injuries. Over the years I understand the significance of love. Often it is not a cumshot clumsy and uncontrollable, disguised as God's will. Flow
the years, never able to shake decaying uneasiness, caused by the Christmas spirit, announced by idiotic jingle. In 1998, the day of joyous arrival, I were found in a ditch thorny. The stereo put off the old golf this, ad infinitum. I never understood how I ended up in that ravine, thorny and almost muffled by gods propitious.
Often, someone, something, a little unexpected gesture. A few years ago, my wife gave me a scaldapene. A little corrucciai me. I thought of symbolic meanings. An evil invitation to prepare for the cold lonely nights. Then put it on with joy. I mean, a red wool scaldapene, complete with a strap clasp at the base club, candy and soft white on the tip. The wool caused some itching at the glans. I have the sensitive glans and easily scappellante I. And it took off me. What brilliant mind. What a brilliant woman. That disruptive tits, with nipples that looked outside, and lascivious witch-like eyes. What purpose will it? Now that I think, I did not ever courage to give her a scaldacepezzolo. And even a scaldavulva prehensile.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

South Park Party Stuff

A suit erection. Dancing to music nonexistent

watching an old decrepit, and I springs to mind Kate Moss. Under a sky of stars shrouded lascivious lick her pussy with a hungry passion. Then we have of expensive whiskey and all sorts of sophisticated drugs. It does concern settle for mediocre toxic, naturally disadvantaged. A tremendously attractive woman invites me to his house, and instead of banged on the comfortable double bed, I propose to them a delicate portrait. And I can not draw. Strait in the long coat scarred by cigarette burns, I feel a chill on meat cutter. And I think to a nudist beach, under the evil sun, which burns skin shriveled, Florida, obscenely merciless. The essays
I would call a dangerous dissociated. They are simply crazy. One of the many to be shut.
He dropped on the eve of the Immaculate Conception. Everything seems to have a link, a Christian motivation. A text message from 10 cents to say enough, with claims of meetings clarifiers. It happens a dozen times a month. And what good is a pathetic encounter? I do not like meetings clarifiers. And even the Christmas lights blinking. "But you want it to end by sms?". And then other curses angrily. "What man are you?". "You do not even the balls to see me?". And many other, less sought after. Never, I'm not a coward, I thought are switched on one. I called. And basically what changes? An SMS is still in evidence, a trace of the past. I delete them as soon as received, text messages. She wanted to leave me a voice, and I made him do.
I drank any alcohol remaining scattered in the house, I fell asleep and peaceful. A beautiful bridge solitdine exasperating. I became aware that the sun was high, and a kind of vice enveloped my body stretched out, stark naked. Peaceful and painless. It did not hurt. As a light blanket of pins, which clings to the meat. The subtle light, discrete filtering, has collected in his parable cross, a crumpled newspaper on the dresser, 'a portion of black screen, and my shiny chapel. Fucking arrogant, swollen and scappellato, vaguely tilted to the left. Excited for no reason. Symbol of a body still alive. And 'the meter to see that I'm still good, the dick. Along with a string of rough beard. And because the brain is a tinsel powerless. Even doctors and shrinks, they should study hard cock. The deck continues to provide imaginary trouble. On the ceiling, a wire hanging. Self-propelled, twisting and inqietante, indulged whirlwinds nonexistent. Waves and horrible rhythm, dance tunes silent.
I got up, I opened the window on the quiet buildings graying, I lit a cigarette and me are smoked down to the filter. Washed with scented bubble bath to sandals, I ridisteso on the unmade bed. And there I stayed a whole day. Adding to the naked with the cold that froze the skin and hilt empty. A light look at that thread, which continued to flood, obscene and tireless.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

New South Park Stream

How naughty spray of piss divine


Sitting on the wall, star gazing, reflecting non-existent. Jagged and threatening clouds, shock from the icy wind. Sometimes a sgrullata of rain, splashing piss naughty divine. And I thought the man with no ass, eyes and brain of concrete made of marzipan, which determine my future. The occurrence of a pension. And I wondered if there was a logical end.
A short walk around a kiosk, a makeshift Roma camp. Eastern workers fine beer and laughed, on leave. Sbluffate of kebab, garlic, onion, open-air latrine and sulfur L & M cigarettes (leme-lemèee-lemèee, buy lemèeeee! Belo young lemèeeee you need?). A blond adorned in the awkward tronista amicidimariadefilippi, approaches me dangling, looking Gascon. Calls for a cigarette, I'll do. Another offers a bit 'camp in his jar discount. Then he pulls out a knife, I warned off from their area. So I guessed. And in some cases, you must give credit to the insights.
The train arrived. Two girls in the compartment with the bag work. Hairdressers, beauticians, orders ... who knows. The most talkative was lined with an expression haggard and distressed. Brown hair and blue eyes. He had a beautiful clear, tasteless, like a land snail with mental disorders.
The friend he was to listen silently. Every now and then intervened, shaking his head. I was intrigued. Perhaps I too was curious about. Intense throwing furtive glances. Case sunglasses worn casually at 21.52, I thought maybe a nut. Or a terrorist Rossoneri. Then I am taken from them. Remained very beautiful, a simple beauty. Alleviation of intolerance towards the light compartment, which continued to want to rape eyes burning. The hair, shiny and raven, the wild and tamed down, leaning on his shoulders. Only a woman of great character can bring that hair. Big eyes and dark, with a little shyness tortured, giving it a charm pouring out of reach. Gesticulated persuasive speeches go along with the snail petulant. And I love watching quietly. Amber skin and irregular, with many species of freckles under the skin. Pouting lips and furrowed, than to be kissed by the light of stars and whores amoreggianti.
I should ask you something, I would answer. We came out a few times. We do this, you would discover in love with my trembling NERC and generous, I would have crowned the biggest cunt lick of the globe. Then sadly lived together. He tried to make me quit drinking. The terrible image of a pulpit whitened, and then sketches of rice, and two children screaming all the mess of jam melocotogno.
I wrote an email on the portable seven-inch unbalanced, and I thought this trend horrendous.
has run up, and sixty feet of pure magic. Sensual and attractive in an unconscious way. With a sinuous movement has run perched on the tips, giving me your ass swashbuckling. He grabbed the bag from the trunk, throwing a ghignetto fatigue. Then she's gone, vanishing into a sad suburban station, leaving one last look, very mischievous.
What matters in the end. Where a bore I did not even reach the sternum? We fought for petty reasons, discovered incompatibility of character and tried furtive lovers. He asked for divorce and food for Frugoli, accusing me of being a wimp. I allowed the male to get the barrel to the university. The female would run away with a musician toxic. It has no way to know people, the illusion of love. Love is a loss. It 's all a big hoax. The real cowards are intimately straight. And she was far too low, maybe you do not even know suck with passion.
get home exhausted. She was wearing a jersey with the number 33, which covered her sweet pink panties. And he looked at me sideways. The evil eyes just popped under golden curls and capricious.
"And where have you been up to now? Why do not you ever answer the phone? ".
"A working meeting.".
"Work? Hahahahaha ...". A harsh and dreadful laughter.
"Yes, I met a woman the whole cave, I married, we had twins, and we left for insuperable differences of character.."
"You're drunk again tonight, eh? And I've been waiting like a fool at home. "
I took a shower. We had dinner. A good meal sophisticated mixed sea, washed by a red cheap. Then allowed herself to remove her panties, and we made a transgression on the kitchen table.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

How To Build Swing Set Blueprint Free

A dwarf who maimed ingroppa a chair lopsided, with the limp dick


I found myself in the middle of a party of highbrow spetazzanti. A delicious aperitif, in the room more expensive and luxurious of the city. Alfredo was the center of everything. The mother superior of a sect of enthusiasts. A nearly fifty of 162 cm abundant hair, brown and blond hairpieces, theatrical spectacles, with a whimsical frame of soft pink. Alfredo persuasive smiled and gave off a horrible smell armpits, and covered with pungent cheesy spry like "pine".
around him a band of adoring young girls, if the Pap with virginal eyes and deep admiration. I wondered what he was so attractive, bespectacled little man and smelly. Can be so profoundly stupid? I asked her to light that I had introduced in that menagerie sought. He shrugged, as trivial and mundane that it can not give answers to a deal more too.
"Oh ... but he's just ALFREDO ...".
Christ, even my wife was hopelessly attracted to this strange creature, moving frantically, as teased in the buttocks by a pin of ketamine. Alfredo admired. And Alfredo spoke nonsense. Speeches river, without any sense. Political alienation of the TV, the media corrupt, Dadaism, abstract art, contemporary painters German names of non-existent. Invented all the time. Every now and then alternated with speeches conceited, refined and alluring sexual double meanings. He smiled showing off the teeth by pet marsupial. And if we all embraced panting.
"hihihihi ... but how are you doing? Are you the usual ... hihihihi ...".
His obscene stench from rotten wild sheep, not the least inhibited. They were wide-eyed and dreamy. Then the whole group has run
transferred. The end of the evening will be spent in a popular pub, just to prove themselves to be proletarians. On the streets, in the car, I knew the other. Alfredo life does nothing. He is dedicated to the art. Wait for the carriage by the inspiration of genius, like an impetuous sea wave.
"It 'a conceptual artist !!!". I
mica I understood what an artist's concept. Perhaps one of those freaks who piss in the pot, fuck a duck or wild photographing a rotten apple suggesting that it makes sense inscrutable. Incomprehensible to the human eye and who only know them as non-existent. It 's easy art, unfounded. He continued as to frustrate my silly doubts.
"But you see it there in an office, Alfredo? He is a free spirit ... I do not know. "
I started to throw down the red, and eclipsed by that terrible chaos. At the table the atmosphere grew heavy. Pussy alluded to, without naming it, and then talked of impressionism. They have taken a complicated speech. All agreed indignant. Reject a degree as a synonym for dull bourgeois spirit. No one had graduated, or had the courage to admit the vile crime. Even I have revealed. I would be mistaken for a miserable social climber, a supporter of Nazism or a serial rapist. Alfredo bragged that he had left his degree in architecture, a few exams to go. It 'a free spirit, anyway.
For a moment I looked at him. The wine did its dirty effect, like a delicate sheath anesthetic. I winked persuasive. Bisexuality is a long trend. I cloaked crazy words that flowed easily. The artist's concept proved to be embarrassed, with a little complacency. "Oh, men can not resist me ...". Seemed to repeat itself, with his eyes empty and annoying. Then I asked: "But you when you fuck a radiator, I'll put a condom? ". Not answered me.
So we re in the car. Offense, not talking to me. The moon veiled by many streams and frayed scary, 'he explained the sad truth. She is ashamed of me. I had to forgive me. The cock was mounting relentless in his pants, he yearned for relief, after those hours of degradation. He dodged my kisses on the neck. He was visibly annoyed. His curls looked like a bush inextricable angry blonde. There was real ferocity in his eyes. Lampi horrendous and red flame.
Then he relented. We kissed. A nice kiss and peacemaker. In the background, the two dogs whining bastards who inchiappettavano without expecting anything. Languages \u200b\u200bdarting wildly, the tried his hand grasping her pussy bald and slippery. Then I found it. Christ! foaming furious excitement. I accompanied on me, leaving it to sink on the cock. It took a frantic squirming. I rode with coarse anger, struggling mad, gave me no respite. He tightened his buttocks, went away with her orgasm, and she pulled up her pants.
"You're just a bitch two money! You were excited about the artist's concept, eh? "
" You're crazy ... drunk, crazy and sick! You have to treat you. "
We went home. We made another vertically. Then we tossed on the bed. Fuck a last breath. While drinking a Beck's 66cl from the bed, she sucked me with soft slowly. I woke up vaguely upset. A beautiful Sunday, nothing hissing. Artistic inspiration came to me. Sudden, powerful. I had to let it explode, or I would die. She was still asleep, the light curls covered her face, exposing his neck. I awakened gently, but with a very agitated voice:
"Honey, I've decided. I will make an exhibition of conceptual art. ".
"Oh ...".
I have also decided to first work. A one-armed dwarf, which is a chair ingroppa lopsided, with limp dick.
"Jesus, you're crazy ... people, I'm a crazy-pazzooo-pazzoooo ...".
hath been turned and went back to sleep.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Sapira S Art And Science Of Bedside Diagnosis

The time that I kissed your lips gently to death



watched her leave. An old bison would take away from the large cicaleggiante lung of the city. I arrived by train two days before, now she was going away in a filthy underground train. A funny paradox. One as many. He turned for a moment, he released a shy smile, just mentioned. I continued to look at those legs smooth and muscular, and two high and buttocks spavalte, more and more distant. And a blond hair and graceful move that beat and safe.
M'avviai satisfied. I had relied on, fumbling on that blonde vicious snake. Maybe I should have married. It was less sensitive but more depraved Claudia, safer, Michela, Gabriella and Daniel put together. His body, even more attractive than Carmen and Valentina. Valentina Uh! A frantic bomb. It only lasted two months. Time is a fat frescaccia. Those two months are worth twelve. My smelling muse. Lasted at least three months, I wrote the Divine Comedy in salsa erotica, within a night and a half. Instead he went one evening in April, and now I write in a blog that does not read even a dog with hemorrhoids. Fuck the muse for a writer aborted.
A frenzy quiet streets teeming clothed. Men decked in blue and tricolor flamboyant, grotesque jester hats. Asians, blacks and Zingarelli with dirty hands, all united from light. I other than the one that walked into that sea of \u200b\u200bpatriotism. Italy is playing the World Cup, I saw the match alone. Or in one of the big screens scattered throughout the city, surrounded by noisy people, alone. I walked. Started from a subtle pain in the soles, to stick a pin thin as the meninges. M'aveva sucked all the blood, marrow and semen, that devil blonde with cherry lips.
I went into a shop in Bengali. Even the clerk was wearing a shirt of Italy, probably to 82. Suffocated in the wool passed on, but resisted stoically with shiny bald lard. I bought two packs of beer, cheap vodka and a bottle of the Beloved jd. Could enough, just left the money for the return ticket, crumpled in his pocket. Outside there were 40 degrees, and I felt the chills, in my tight black leather jacket. The indifference of the city help me. None found time to point to them as crazy. I mingle with others.
I entered the board at reasonable prices, the desk clerk smiled at me kindly and greasy, and gossip. Probabilmete s'imbottiva Viagra, then masturbating imagining fucking a goat bleating. He gave me the key, the bottles rattled merry in the envelope. I was thirsty, and a great desire to drink.
I undressed and stood in his underwear on the bed, gazing at imaginary shadows. Almost feel the smell of withering Federica mice on the sheets, rarefied mix nicotine from the air conditioner. Maybe I loved her, I'd definitely love a lot in those two days. The future does not interest me that much. I was to drink for hours. In the blue tv already were busy with a brave heart, and I threw down warm beer as an antidote to everything. Almost a magic spell, evil made me vulnerable, without pussy. The imaginative lover and stupid for a few hours before, left the field with a rag emptied. I began to give me things to do with frozen vodka, descended into the bowels like hot ice. And the screen can no longer distinguish the shapes in your underwear. Only the excited voice of the commentator. Annoying, loud, unbearable. Threw the bottle at the screen. A burst, the noise almost felt in the distance.
lit a cigarette and m'affacciai the window. Ancient walls and crumbling, and nobody in the streets. Stappai another beer, then whiskey, and beer again. I vomited bitter shreds of liquid soul. I was shaking like a leaf, twisted guts, and a heart that was pumping crazy, schizoid as a storm in July. I sensed in the chest, then stomach empty, and then burst into fierce throat. I thought of dying seriously. Trincai the bottle, cast out that fear. My two angels appeared bald and gnomes. All harnessed in a turquoise tunic and golden. Accommodative smiled, showing the single central tooth. Then fart in unison. And smiled yet. Horrible.
I thought to call someone. Who would know? I would have done in gray rooms of psychiatric hospitals, or the morgue. We go to a wedding with these things, the ones there. Maybe I was already dead. I tried to masturbate, I would die coming. The cock was purple, venous and inexorably Barzotto, a softness won. And the horrible vision I choked. The helpless feeling without being able to stifle anything, completely drowning without water, without a reason. The two dwarf winged now had a blond and perky forelock, as Tintin. Behind them, frigid and imposing figure of a woman falling, with white hair and steppe. He was wearing a shiny purple cape scary. Its sharp teeth and shiny I warned, metal filling of words incomprehensible. It invited me to advance, subtle and insidious. Obscene licked her lips, my. I had to do, run away quickly, before it strangles me forever. Quickly slipped the pants and a shirt. Pestai the glass edges, but nothing avvrtii, threw up some residue, rinsed his face. I slipped on a step imaginary support cursed and misleading. Then a dull and violent impact against the toilet bowl. Only time to feel a warm trickle that ran down his face from the temple. It was blinding darkness.
I woke up with a better erection pulsate with the head, about to burst. Among the smell of vomit and wild musk soap. And I knew that I was still alive.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Bleeding During Ovulation More Condition_symptoms

Of listless grant of foreskin bored



I spent Saturday morning to reflect. Lying in bed, completely naked. I stared at the ceiling. And then the window, and standing water. In the absolute solitude of a dreadful autumn, the cyclamen grow where skew between stones worn by the years.
called me Philip. Philip is the purveyor of my cunt, and thirty-five problem with the vice of synthetic pills. Average height, angle and angular face, reddish hair, expression spirited, frenetic and articulated movements, as perennially loaded springs somewhere Satanello spiteful, disguised as a hallucinogen acid. Long ago, after a party, stripped naked, and began singing on the counter: "You're still mine, even when you sleep you will be the only woman for me ...". Then he began to masturbate, cursing, and brings them back home. I've never been clear why go so hard with women. Between his legs did not even that great spirit sensitive, so that attracts the hearts of women. And by the way, is often green. With the voice
all excited, tells me that the hands du many interesting girls with whom to spend the night. I tried to decline, more than bragging commitments. The sex does not attract me very recently. I only went to stay with my naked because, to be caressed with combs and off with imaginary a case of Beck's. Two ghosts attacked me from horrendous, in the midst of those walls. Scope of Zazzi yellow ocher, hair long and shaggy on the arms blacks, and I'm gnawing on the jugular with the gums slippery. I decided to run away cowardly, and accept the invitation of Philip.
Like all straight, before a horrible night, was drunk on the cheap, from "Donato mustache." € 1 and 20, a Peroni. I have shot six along with a mason depressed, and I was almost like any other, laffuori. It took me an hour and a quarter to reach the room, wandering among bumpy roads, made slippery by rain. From the outside it looked a former church, a place of damnation. One of those where orgiastic rites are practiced in the mask. I entered. Revealed herself a quiet little place, manner, sleepy. An elegant and youthful customers. No mask. A sophisticated group of middle-aged men playing the nice jazz. A little 'I like jazz, at times. It 's the sad fate of passing time, and men as they age. We pass from
Soundgarden rock elite, jazz or classical. Revolutionary ideas to the left of the Communist Party of China, slipping slowly into the vile restraint. From sex brisk, free-range and pleasure, you get to crazy thoughts of love, yearning and cold and planning for future retirement. That must be why I do not grow old ever. It is always an asshole dreamer with his head in the clouds of hops. The only project I have is not achieving the 14 beers. A threshold that I capture the thoughts of sudden death, and assumptions of elegant and sinuous flight of an angel from the fourth floor. The secret is to stop at the thirteenth, or continue. Why in the fifteenth then I forget.
I downed a cocktail after another. Ruffians and lazy, like all things sweet. And I forgot the count.
The two girls were not too bad either, given the circumstances. Philip has run slingshots on heroin. I had presented a concert (aggratise) Cure. After half-drained bottle of vodka, he wanted to take off her pants and fuck the entire male population in Piazza San Giovanni Laterano. A girl nice and bright, in fact. With reddish hair tied in two braids, like Pocahontas, fisichetto nervous and slender, graceful in a narrow beige dress, heavy makeup around the eyes and a beautiful look lively circle. I remained another, and was not even bad. Donnino with a beautiful platinum blonde hair that fell on the shoulders raised and wild, with red cheeks and facial features attractive, those who are curious of life. It looked hot. His eyes were clear in the middle between off and dreaming. I've watched her lips, quietly detached. Of beautiful full lips that they attack you, twisting words. Yet she was painted in black scary around the eyes. A look difficult to fit, half dark, half girl and left alternative with a splash of glamor. A scarf around his neck thin-thin, pale color Celestine, with so many blinding streaks. Just below the neckline came out a gap of tits charming. Similar to the Blue Fairy, with lots of feel like shit. For a second I imagined his magic in a bed. Then I started to drink. Grazia, so you chiamva (Grazia Graziella-and-through 'or cock! "Said a friend of mine intellectual, when he wanted to be nice) spoke well, he said something intelligent. I did not understand, but they were certainly interesting. In certain circumstances, it is important the content, but as words come out. The movement of the lips, involuntary facial wrinkles, how to roll a cigarette breath. There
I left class with 60 € careless, and I did not know if I passed the threshold of the fateful 13. I did not care. The blonde stood and made her beautiful figure. A nice full ass is back, bursting clear bon vivant in his pants. Philip has run approached, his eyes bright and quite tangled.
"Listen, if you want, come to my house, do something with all four ...". Then he smiled a little wink '.
"No, tonight is your night.".
There was a little 'bad. He improvised a commitment, and left with its beautiful Pocahontas OVERDONE.
Outside, the rain had slowed. We stayed in the deserted parking lot, surrounded by pine trees, which sgrullavano droplets restless.
"With everything that you've been drinking, if you are stopped, the license do not you retire, you burn it ...".
(Uhuh! m'è touched a nurse).
"Imagine, you're thoughtful. It is also drunk who has eaten a chocolate to rum. According to their thresholds should be dead.. "
I peered curiously. Perhaps he had studied psychology from Ursuline mustache and industrious.
"I have not said what is your job.".
"Nothing. I look around.. "
"I envy you so ...".
"What do you want it, I look to sell the house, then drink up to die. What remains leave it to the cat.. "
"But you live alone?".
"Sure. But a girl I do. I just have to tell you, one day or another. I'm an insecure. ".
was genuinely amused. They all laugh. I do not know how to explain why. Exchange the tragedy with irony. Women are strange. Then he continued to
monologue. Important words, which I remember only angular fragments. I tried to give me an attitude. I lit a cigarette. Flickered all around the machine. Need to do something. I've kissed your lips. With a movement of class I have enclosed the back. Her lips were cold, and the language almost a freeze arrow, which was slowly brightening, until trasformasi in lascivious frenzy. I do not like the language and furrowed with scrap iron, but in some cases you do not have time to think. His hands sought her buttocks. Using a firm and graceful, my predecessor. He pulled off his pants and began to work with the poor care foreskin tired. A punctilious ritual. He got to kiss him slowly, like a gallant knowledge. I thought it was a very sweet girl with so much need of love. I felt it swell and burst in her mouth, suddenly. Slowly he led with his right, his left hand caressing the outline. The black painted nails scratched gently. Every now and then the delicate little kisses to tickle the tip. That masturbation kissed me bewildered. I had time to read the Divine Comedy in Esperanto, before coming. I was drunk and she did not understand it. But I have left to do.
kept wondering when he began, waiting me bewildered. The lips, supporting the development of hands, excited me. Then has made her more determined, his fingers now tighten a NERC crazy. And the veins throbbed more and more swollen. Place the wet lips of the chapel, the winding sinuously with the language, with no brakes. Jesus' language. I felt his breath, the excitement was mounting that, parallel to mine. I came, watching the moon looked out timid, fearful of clouds. He all collected in a handkerchief, and hath been cleansed of any remaining recalcitrant. It is
accuattata above, and we have continued to smoke and watch the moon clear and hidden. Then I started the engine, and I stopped at the first provider of condoms.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Chafing More Condition_symptoms

Tits quivering



Andrew was probably homosexual. But Did not I never asked. It will be for his square-jawed smile and wink as I scanned the package, but I had made that idea. I'm not a person is too deep. Perhaps misled by the common folk wisdom of my grandmother, two decades ago: "What name is Andrea for a man? Andreo, had to call him.. "
Native North industrious and coldly ordered, fair hair brush, small eyes disturbingly, the moralization of customs based on the "pull-tab" typical of the south, discreet, healthy, devoted to the gym and the typical body of a host of Mathausen, maniac order, of all acquaintance and friend of anyone. The tenant perfect to ignore. Every now and then encounters him in the morning on the stairs, nothing more.
That night he had organized a party to celebrate something. A swarm of eager-looking girls and kinky and resigned with a light in his eyes. With his affable and friendly to do "all I know," could create a harem of maidens worshiping in tow, Andrea. I went out, came back after four good hours, wearing a load of vodka mica laugh. The light step and an open mind, the perception of a soft and fuzzy things and figures. Were only three girls get bored. The typical high school party at their thirties now, about to lead in the game of the bottle. Among
horrid bottles of coca-cola soft drinks and Ponce, there was still beer. I sat down and I have a sgargarozzato. I spoke to a reddish blonde, well put. No big deal, but between the other two stood out. Meaty the right buttocks coarse bursting in white pants, boobs fair hair that just stung his back, his lips like "bite me stupid, and clever eyes, sky-blue and a little 'drunk. The other two are gone sculettando. Alessandra, so called, has remained. Working nearby, often slept with my tenant. I mean, in the same room. I never understood if there purpose, or latent homosexuality Andrea impeded. Several times I had crossed, without thinking that it was not to throw a fuck.
"There 's been good to the party?". I asked.
"Normal.".
"could revive an orgy with reduced ...". Vodka makes me very unconscious humorist.
"If only ...". He hissed in the middle voice.
That "maybe" rang out ominously for a few seconds, Light in my mind. Then I spilled beer. I finished and went to make myself a nice refreshing shower.
I came whistling, that the two talking in dense-packed. Then he has become locked in the room. Perhaps talking to the boyfriend.
"Really, you have the air conditioner in the room?". Asked the blonde.
"Oh yes, I took it in installments.."
"Blessed are you, can not breathe tonight ...".
E 'come into the room, hath been placed under a stream of cold air. He seemed to enjoy without panting.
"Oh, even the bed ...."
"If you want to stay here, I have no problems.
"I do not know if this is the case ... then I wake up at 7.30, I would give you trouble. ". And Aga Khan lying on the bed.
"No bother, well, forever if Andrea is in agreement ...".
"What he has to do? You thought there was something between us? - Has made her a laugh tasty - A party who are engaged, then he slept on the sofa bed.. "
"There are no more gentlemen than once. Tomorrow I tell him to get the suitcases. ".
"Yes, but is a sofa, becomes a bed with him ... they are quiet because we're friends.." He finished the sentence, I wore a t-shirt, removed his pants and pulled her bra with a lightning movement. Stayed with her pants halfway jag, we admired the mirror, in penumbra.
That "with him are quiet" plus the "maybe" orgy small, has produced some philosophical thoughts: I did not even have a condom. And tremendous excitement was mounting by the heel to the tip of the foreskin. She went on dondeggiare the backside, pinching the sides.
"Ugh ... I'm fat, you say?".
"Oh no, you're fine.".
trial was put under the sheets, at a safe distance. It seemed in the mood for a nottalba of confidences. Friendship, respect, loyalty, her boyfriend's military career, trains ...
"Listen, I'm used to sleep without you mind if I take off her pants?".
"But I figured, I'm a modern man. I also do not sleep, I do not have the boxer mica.. "
has run shot, sfilandoseli with modest grace. He gave me his back and he went back to chatting about things that I did not understand, nuclear wars, the critique of pure reason, the spirit ontofenomenologia ...
I approached and I girded with him. He had a good smell. And let me do. I stroked the legs, shoulders, smooth, and slowly pulled the rod up the ass. Rubbing button on the two slots. And she continued to speak, Virgil's poem, the rights of women, of Juventus. Only with your voice a bit 'more restless, while her fingers probed the lips of cunt. It was already wet and well maintained. Has run shot, m'è seemed to glimpse a vicious smile, those who deny the invitation to speed.
"What do you do?".
"But nothing ...".
I had not finished the sentence, Did I stuck with that concern.
"What are you doing? You're crazy! Uhhhhhh! Do you have a condom? ".
"No.".
I started to get started, settling down and tap the imagination, without enthusiasm. Before hand, and then a lively joint type coupling of Swedish oysters. I lost anxiously biting tits and sliding between those buttery buttocks. Writhed, moaned and after a while 'he's coming all struggling.
"I'm not quiet, I'm sorry ...".
has run subtracted so bad. He got to kiss and lead him hither with the decision. Hath been turned to the side, behind indirizzandoselo. Uhuhuh! That woman is determined! He lost a little. I mean, just to bugger excites you imagine the rejection, the limit as evidence of unconditional love. When you do not ask anything, I'll give them, without much preamble. It 's all a matter of psychology, my ass. I started to mix with very gently, letting the chapel to sink slowly.
"Uh, you're hurting me."
"Leave it to small, you'll see ...".
"But you've got something a little 'oil ... I'm not used to ...".
"(sure-sure, right.) Ok, now I see.."
In the bathroom I had nothing. I rummaged in the cabinet of Andrew. A number of cosmetics that are the envy Wanda Osiris. I have sighted "Johnson's baby oil for sensitive skin.." And riotous ass. It did not, but it is understood. Already a couple of times it worked fine. I looked in the mirror. The cock was hard and purple, slightly scappellamento left. Never noticed before that slope.
"I found this, you say, okay?"
"Oh it's perfect! I see you're equipped! I had understood that you are a pig! How do you go to bed, eh? Eh? ".
I did not answer. I sprinkled then I sunk without problems. I slipped, plunged into a hedonistic mix of Antarctic glaciers by freshness and warmth obscene, moss mountain and burning sand. A quiet and slow butt. Then download a dense, greeted by his little cry of satisfaction.
He started giving me kisses and small bites on his neck. He then resumed his monologue. Chakra, boyfriend, marriage, cohabitation, the monsoon season ...

Friday, August 14, 2009

How Do Pontoon Trailers Work

My mocha The tree for a quickie




E 'arrived in the morning, still had to dispose of the aftermaths of sbonza, and taming the erection drl morning. I opened, eyes slit. She wore a pretty dress in all blue flowers and shiny. It looked very much the idea of \u200b\u200ba summer jaunty and careless or a tropical tornado.
I put the coffee on the stove, defeating the tremor in the hand. Waiting for the gurgling scented, we kissed. A whirling embrace of language, more and more dirty, uncontrollable. Already throbbing cock in his underwear. Has run his hand under her skirt crept slippery, and with your fingers, press on the thong, hot and humid. A stifled gasp, then he marched from the boxer, a tough piece of meat, and fiery, tight between his fingers. Christ! I was hard as marble, how excited was not the case for some time. I broke the meninges.
The coffee came out, we let it burn. With the eyes of the bitch asked vioelentassi there, no wait, no another preamble. I spun, bent over the table, I won my ass. Hiding those legs opened the seventh joyful mystery of Fatima. And nobody understands. He was there among those scantily clad buttocks. The wire thong bucetto points to a dirty, naughty silhouetted in pink and wet cunt. I marched slowly, one leg, then the other.
He got greedy squirm like a mare, just savored the chapel. She moved her buttocks in a circular belt with the decision. The embrace with her pussy. Then I slipped into the shot. He met with a gasp of surprise, excitement, wounded more forward. Moaned without restrain, under the brutal and slow strokes. They settled regardless the remainder of the sudden rain aroma of burnt coffee. A few moments to linger with dick in pussy planted until the balls, and listen to that whining long, disguised as a call to sink another, more powerful and profound. And I favor. I continued to fuck her from behind. I lost in that sea thick and slippery. The straps of her dress were now falling, her breasts escaped impetuously from the slippery stuff. Wrung them kissing his neck, then passed his hand on his face, licking his lips without a reason. Licking and sucking her fingers as if they were a dick, maybe they wanted another cock. All they want another cock, and enjoy. Even when they do not enjoy. He's coming with a strangled cry, biting my fingers.
I marched, did not have time to go down, that two abundant sketches scribbled out the table. Bent knees licked the last lazy streams. And I felt his breath still excited and breathless, touching the skin wet and thin. The soft lips licking the chapel full of cum still and dense, and tongue, smooth and left, if you enjoy it, wrapping it slowly.
Then ascigata has run her lips and started to wander around lost, looking for that tiny thong.
And I have to change the seal of mocha.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Incredible Hulk Birthday Cake

us too?




Thank you. What an extraordinary night, capping off an extraordinary week, capping off an extraordinary 100 years at the NAACP.

So Chairman Bond, Brother Justice, I am so grateful to all of you for being here. It’s just good to be among friends.

It is an extraordinary honor to be here, in the city where the NAACP was formed, to mark its centennial. What we celebrate tonight is not simply the journey the NAACP has traveled, but the journey that we, as Americans, have traveled over the past 100 years.

It’s a journey that takes us back to a time before most of us were born, long before the Voting Rights Act, and the Civil Rights Act, Brown v. Board of Education; back to an America just a generation past slavery. It was a time when Jim Crow was a way of life; when lynchings were all too common; when race riots were shaking cities across a segregated land.

It was in this America where an Atlanta scholar named W.E.B. Du Bois, a man of towering intellect and a fierce passion for justice, sparked what became known as the Niagara movement; where reformers united, not by color, but by cause; where an association was born that would, as its charter says, promote equality and eradicate prejudice among citizens of the United States.

From the beginning, these founders understood how change would come — just as King and all the civil rights giants did later. They understood that unjust laws needed to be overturned; that legislation needed to be passed; and that Presidents needed to be pressured into action. They knew that the stain of slavery and the sin of segregation had to be lifted in the courtroom, and in the legislature, and in the hearts and the minds of Americans.

They also knew that here, in America, change would have to come from the people . It would come from people protesting lynchings, rallying against violence, all those women who decided to walk instead of taking the bus, even though they were tired after a long day of doing somebody else’s laundry, looking after somebody else’s children. It would come from men and women of every age and faith, and every race and region — taking Greyhounds on Freedom Rides; sitting down at Greensboro lunch counters; registering voters in rural Mississippi, knowing they would be harassed, knowing they would be beaten, knowing that some of them might never return.

Because of what they did, we are a more perfect union. Because Jim Crow laws were overturned, black CEOs today run Fortune 500 companies. Because civil rights laws were passed, black mayors, black governors, and members of Congress served in places where they might once have been able not just to vote but even take a sip of water. And because ordinary people did such extraordinary things, because they made the civil rights movement their own, even though there may not be a plaque or their names might not be in the history books — because of their efforts I made a little trip to Springfield, Illinois, a couple years ago where Lincoln once lived, and race riots once raged — and began the journey that has led me to be here tonight as the 44th President of the United States of America.

Because of them I stand here tonight, on the shoulders of giants. And I’m here to say thank you to those pioneers and thank you to the NAACP.

And yet, even as we celebrate the remarkable achievements of the past 100 years; even as we inherit extraordinary progress that cannot be denied; even as we marvel at the courage and determination of so many plain folk — we know that too many barriers still remain .

We know that even as our economic crisis batters Americans of all races, African Americans are out of work more than just about anybody else — a gap that’s widening here in New York City, as a detailed report this week by Comptroller Bill Thompson laid out.

We know that even as spiraling health care costs crush families of all races, African Americans are more likely to suffer from a host of diseases but less likely to own health insurance than just about anybody else.

We know that even as we imprison more people of all races than any nation in the world, an African American child is roughly five times as likely as a white child to see the inside of a prison.

We know that even as the scourge of HIV/AIDS devastates nations abroad, particularly in Africa, it is devastating the African American community here at home with disproportionate force. We know these things.

These are some of the barriers of our time. They’re very different from the barriers faced by earlier generations. They’re very different from the ones faced when fire hoses and dogs were being turned on young marchers; when Charles Hamilton Houston and a group of young Howard lawyers were dismantling segregation case by case across the land.

But what’s required today — what’s required to overcome today’s barriers is the same as what was needed then. The same commitment. The same sense of urgency. The same sense of sacrifice. The same sense of community. The same willingness to do our part for ourselves and one another that has always defined America at its best and the African American experience at its best.

And so the question is, where do we direct our efforts ? What steps do we take to overcome these barriers ? How do we move forward in the next 100 years ?

The first thing we need to do is make real the words of the NAACP charter and eradicate prejudice, bigotry, and discrimination among citizens of the United States. I understand there may be a temptation among some to think that discrimination is no longer a problem in 2009. And I believe that overall, there probably has never been less discrimination in America than there is today. I think we can say that.

But make no mistake: the pain of discrimination is still felt in America . By African American women paid less for doing the same work as colleagues of a different color and a different gender. By Latinos made to feel unwelcome in their own country. By Muslim Americans viewed with suspicion simply because they kneel down to pray to their God . By our gay brothers and sisters, still taunted, still attacked, still denied their rights .

On the 45th anniversary of the Civil Rights Act, discrimination cannot stand — not on account of color or gender; how you worship or who you love. Prejudice has no place in the United States of America. That’s what the NAACP stands for. That’s what the NAACP will continue to fight for as long as it takes.

But we also know that prejudice and discrimination — at least the most blatant types of prejudice and discrimination — are not even the steepest barriers to opportunity today. The most difficult barriers include structural inequalities that our nation’s legacy of discrimination has left behind; inequalities still plaguing too many communities and too often the object of national neglect.

These are barriers we are beginning to tear down one by one — by rewarding work with an expanded tax credit; by making housing more affordable; by giving ex-offenders a second chance. These are barriers we’re targeting through our White House Office on Urban Affairs, through programs like Promise Neighborhoods that builds on Geoffrey Canada’s success with the Harlem Children’s Zone that foster a comprehensive approach to ending poverty by putting all children on a pathway to college, and giving them the schooling and after-school support that they need to get there.

I think all of us understand that our task of reducing these structural inequalities has been made more difficult by the state and structure of our broader economy; an economy that for the last decade has been fueled by a cycle of boom and bust; an economy where the rich got really, really rich, but ordinary folks didn’t see their incomes or their wages go up ; an economy built on credit cards, shady mortgage loans; an economy built not on a rock, but on sand .

That’s why my administration is working so hard not only to create and save jobs in the short-term, not only to extend unemployment insurance and help for people who have lost their health care in this crisis, not just to stem the immediate economic wreckage, but to lay a new foundation for growth and prosperity that will put opportunity within the reach of not just African Americans, but all Americans. All Americans. Of every race. Of every creed. From every region of the country. We want everybody to participate in the American Dream. That’s what the NAACP is all about.

Now, one pillar of this new foundation is health insurance for everybody . Health insurance reform that cuts costs and makes quality health coverage affordable for all, and it closes health care disparities in the process. Another pillar is energy reform that makes clean energy profitable, freeing America from the grip of foreign oil ; putting young people to work upgrading low-income homes, weatherizing, and creating jobs that can’t be outsourced. Another pillar is financial reform with consumer protections to crackdown on mortgage fraud and stop predatory lenders from targeting black and Latino communities all across the country.

All these things will make America stronger and more competitive. They will drive innovation, they will create jobs, they will provide families with more security. And yet, even if we do all that, the African American community will still fall behind in the United States and the United States will fall behind in the world unless we do a far better job than we have been doing of educating our sons and daughters.

I hope you don’t mind — I want to go into a little detail here about education. In the 21st century — when so many jobs will require a bachelor’s degree or more, when countries that out-educate us today will out-compete us tomorrow — a world-class education is a prerequisite for success.

There’s no two ways about it. There’s no way to avoid it. You know what I’m talking about. There’s a reason the story of the civil rights movement was written in our schools. There’s a reason Thurgood Marshall took up the cause of Linda Brown. There’s a reason why the Little Rock Nine defied a governor and a mob. It’s because there is no stronger weapon against inequality and no better path to opportunity than an education that can unlock a child’s God-given potential.

And yet, more than half a century after Brown v. Board, the dream of a world-class education is still being deferred all across the country. African American students are lagging behind white classmates in reading and math — an achievement gap that is growing in states that once led the way in the civil rights movement. Over half of all African American students are dropping out of school in some places. There are overcrowded classrooms, and crumbling schools, and corridors of shame in America filled with poor children — not just black children, brown and white children as well.

The state of our schools is not an African American problem ; it is an American problem. Because if black and brown children cannot compete, then America cannot compete. And let me say this, if Al Sharpton, Mike Bloomberg, and Newt Gingrich can agree that we need to solve the education problem, then that’s something all of America can agree we can solve. Those guys came into my office. Just sitting in the Oval Office — I kept on doing a double-take. So that’s a sign of progress and it is a sign of the urgency of the education problem. All of us can agree that we need to offer every child in this country — every child.

Got an “Amen corner” back there every child — every child in this country the best education the world has to offer from cradle through a career.

That’s our responsibility as leaders. That’s the responsibility of the United States of America. And we, all of us in government, have to work to do our part by not only offering more resources, but also demanding more reform. Because when it comes to education, we got to get past this whole paradigm, this outdated notion that somehow it’s just money; or somehow it’s just reform, but no money — and embrace what Dr. King called the “both-and” philosophy. We need more money and we need more reform.

When it comes to higher education we’re making college and advanced training more affordable, and strengthening community colleges that are the gateway to so many with an initiative that will prepare students not only to earn a degree, but to find a job when they graduate; an initiative that will help us meet the goal I have set of leading the world in college degrees by 2020. We used to rank number one in college graduates. Now we are in the middle of the pack. And since we are seeing more and more African American and Latino youth in our population, if we are leaving them behind we cannot achieve our goal, and America will fall further behind — and that is not a future that I accept and that is not a future that the NAACP is willing to accept.

We’re creating a Race to the Top fund that will reward states and public school districts that adopt 21st century standards and assessments. We’re creating incentives for states to promote excellent teachers and replace bad ones because the job of a teacher is too important for us to accept anything less than the best .

We also have to explore innovative approaches such as those being pursued here in New York City; innovations like Bard High School Early College and Medgar Evers College Preparatory School that are challenging students to complete high school and earn a free associate’s degree or college credit in just four years.

And we should raise the bar when it comes to early learning programs. It’s not enough just to have a babysitter. We need our young people stimulated and engaged and involved. We need our — our folks involved in child development to understand the latest science. Today, some early learning programs are excellent. Some are mediocre. And some are wasting what studies show are by far a child’s most formative years.

That’s why I’ve issued a challenge to America’s governors: If you match the success of states like Pennsylvania and develop an effective model for early learning; if you focus reform on standards and results in early learning programs; if you demonstrate how you will prepare the lowest income children to meet the highest standards of success — then you can compete for an Early Learning Challenge Grant that will help prepare all our children to enter kindergarten all ready to learn.

So these are some of the laws we’re passing. These are some of the policies we are enacting. We are busy in Washington. Folks in Congress are getting a little tuckered out. But I’m telling them — I’m telling them we can’t rest, we’ve got a lot of work to do. The American people are counting on us. These are some of the ways we’re doing our part in government to overcome the inequities, the injustices, the barriers that still exist in our country.

But all these innovative programs and expanded opportunities will not, in and of themselves, make a difference if each of us, as parents and as community leaders, fail to do our part by encouraging excellence in our children. Government programs alone won’t get our children to the Promised Land. We need a new mind set, a new set of attitudes — because one of the most durable and destructive legacies of discrimination is the way we’ve internalized a sense of limitation; how so many in our community have come to expect so little from the world and from themselves.

We’ve got to say to our children, yes, if you’re African American, the odds of growing up amid crime and gangs are higher. Yes, if you live in a poor neighborhood, you will face challenges that somebody in a wealthy suburb does not have to face. But that’s not a reason to get bad grades that’s not a reason to cut class that’s not a reason to give up on your education and drop out of school. No one has written your destiny for you. Your destiny is in your hands — you cannot forget that. That’s what we have to teach all of our children. No excuses. No excuses.

You get that education, all those hardships will just make you stronger, better able to compete. Yes we can.

To parents — to parents, we can’t tell our kids to do well in school and then fail to support them when they get home. You can’t just contract out parenting. For our kids to excel, we have to accept our responsibility to help them learn. That means putting away the Xbox putting our kids to bed at a reasonable hour. It means attending those parent-teacher conferences and reading to our children and helping them with their homework.

And by the way, it means we need to be there for our neighbor’s sons and daughters. We need to go back to the time, back to the day when we parents saw somebody, saw some kid fooling around and — it wasn’t your child, but they’ll whup you anyway. Or at least they’ll tell your parents — the parents will. You know. That’s the meaning of community. That’s how we can reclaim the strength and the determination and the hopefulness that helped us come so far; helped us make a way out of no way.

It also means pushing our children to set their sights a little bit higher. They might think they’ve got a pretty good jump shot or a pretty good flow, but our kids can’t all aspire to be LeBron or Lil Wayne. I want them aspiring to be scientists and engineers, doctors and teachers not just ballers and rappers. I want them aspiring to be a Supreme Court Justice. I want them aspiring to be the President of the United States of America .

I want their horizons to be limitless. I don’t — don’t tell them they can’t do something. Don’t feed our children with a sense of — that somehow because of their race that they cannot achieve .

Yes, government must be a force for opportunity. Yes, government must be a force for equality. But ultimately, if we are to be true to our past, then we also have to seize our own future, each and every day.And that’s what the NAACP is all about. The NAACP was not founded in search of a handout. The NAACP was not founded in search of favors. The NAACP was founded on a firm notion of justice; to cash the promissory note of America that says all of our children, all God’s children, deserve a fair chance in the race of life.

It’s a simple dream, and yet one that all too often has been denied — and is still being denied to so many Americans. It’s a painful thing, seeing that dream denied. I remember visiting a Chicago school in a rough neighborhood when I was a community organizer, and some of the children gathered ’round me. And I remember thinking how remarkable it was that all of these children seemed so full of hope, despite being born into poverty, despite being delivered, in some cases, into addiction, despite all the obstacles they were already facing — you could see that spark in their eyes. They were the equal of children anywhere.

And I remember the principal of the school telling me that soon that sparkle would begin to dim, that things would begin to change; that soon, the laughter in their eyes would begin to fade; that soon, something would shut off inside, as it sunk in — because kids are smarter than we give them credit for — as it sunk in that their hopes would not come to pass — not because they weren’t smart enough, not because they weren’t talented enough, not because of anything about them inherently, but because, by accident of birth, they had not received a fair chance in life .

I know what can happen to a child who doesn’t have that chance. But I also know what can happen to a child that does. I was raised by a single mom. I didn’t come from a lot of wealth. I got into my share of trouble as a child. My life could have easily taken a turn for the worse. When I drive through Harlem or I drive through the South Side of Chicago and I see young men on the corners, I say, there but for the grace of God go I. They’re no less gifted than me. They’re no less talented than me.

But I had some breaks. That mother of mine, she gave me love; she pushed me, she cared about my education; she took no lip; she taught me right from wrong. Because of her, I had a chance to make the most of my abilities. I had the chance to make the most of my opportunities. I had the chance to make the most of life.

The same story holds true for Michelle. The same story holds true for so many of you. And I want all the other Barack Obamas out there, and all the other Michelle Obamas out there to have the same chance — the chance that my mother gave me; that my education gave me; that the United States of America has given me. That’s how our union will be perfected and our economy rebuilt. That is how America will move forward in the next 100 years.

And we will move forward. This I know — for I know how far we have come. Some, you saw, last week in Ghana, Michelle and I took Malia and Sasha and my mother-in-law to Cape Coast Castle, in Ghana. Some of you may have been there. This is where captives were once imprisoned before being auctioned; where, across an ocean, so much of the African American experience began.

We went down into the dungeons where the captives were held. There was a church above one of the dungeons — which tells you something about saying one thing and doing another. I was — we walked through the “Door Of No Return.” I was reminded of all the pain and all the hardships, all the injustices and all the indignities on the voyage from slavery to freedom.

But I was reminded of something else. I was reminded that no matter how bitter the rod, how stony the road, we have always persevered. We have not faltered, nor have we grown weary. As Americans, we have demanded, and strived for, and shaped a better destiny. And that is what we are called on to do once more. NAACP, it will not be easy. It will take time. Doubts may rise and hopes may recede.

But if John Lewis could brave Billy clubs to cross a bridge then I know young people today can do their part and lift up our community.

If Emmet Till’s uncle, Mose Wright, could summon the courage to testify against the men who killed his nephew, I know we can be better fathers and better brothers and better mothers and sisters in our own families.

If three civil rights workers in Mississippi — black, white, Christian and Jew, city-born and country-bred — could lay down their lives in freedom’s cause, I know we can come together to face down the challenges of our own time. We can fix our schools we can heal our sick, we can rescue our youth from violence and despair.

And 100 years from now, on the 200th anniversary of the NAACP let it be said that this generation did its part; that we too ran the race; that full of faith that our dark past has taught us, full of the hope that the present has brought us we faced, in our lives and all across this nation, the Rising Sun of a New Day Begun.

Thank you, God bless you. God bless the United States of America.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Storing A Helmet On A Vespa

of chips (Boche and decrepit poor)



What then Luigi, moved with compassion for my state of semi-poverty, he found buyers. With powerful and highly placed knowledge, has discovered a pair of vintage men in Germany, very munificent. It 's been a good morning, all radiant and well-groomed. I had already made three beck's nostalgic smoked and frozen to the window. In his underwear. The puppy cat-mouse looked at me with compassionate eyes, then started playing with a beer cap. The point as the matador does with a bull.
car was silent and thoughtful. He looked at me, silent. At the end he has not held:
"What is it you are coming in doubt?".
"No, it's no longer safe.".
"It 's a normal thing, it happens. But it's just a hut. And they pay ten times more than an Italian. It 'a unique opportunity. "
"I know, but I have many memories in that place.".
"You're a romantic, and mica knew ...". A poor
sentimental weakling. I am fond of things, I detach myself from the difficult memories. So stupid and the barrel of gas to be forced to sell. Cynics have happened and grain, and are not forced to sell. Do not have time to be romantic. The fucking cat chasing its tail. Luigi
snuffed at every hole of dirt roads and bumpy. His custom-docile annasapava scared. And he trembled, with delicate suspension, like a virgin lost. But we arrived. Waiting there, with Teutonic punctuality. Two German postcard. Closer to eighty to ninety. Whitish skin and slight redness. He wore a yellow mustache, Lombroso cheekbones, jaw hard and strong-willed, Celestine and slit eyes, and shiny head, the spots of old age reflected the rays of the sun, just hidden by a hair light. Of course wearing shorts explorer. She, an adorable Bacucco overweight with the beer belly and stomach from habitual consumption of hot dogs, wearing a garish vestal tiny flowers on a black background. Hair of a white wicker chilling under a straw hat as a tourist model. Two strains scary. Terrible! Straight out of a film in black and white Nazi horror. Adorable old men serial killer. They looked at me smiling and winking. Then they started chatting
dense-packed with Luigi. I was waiting for the translation and said nothing. Every now and then insulted them in a low voice. "Ugly nazistoni of shit! You'll never have my house! "" You must bear at Nuremberg, in Nuremberg. " They did not understand, looked at me and smiled in unison. They said it was beautiful. Turns the placid expression, a shrill incomprehensible exclamations and stern look, with a wisp of icy ferocity in his eyes. Have moved away to enjoy the country setting. Centuries-old olive trees, almonds, cherries, figs, many chips. I have a weakness for chips. And the fig tree trunks and leaves rough fragile. There's one hanging on the wall side of the house, but the chips are not yet ripe. I approached the ugly business, which adjusts the clump and control the phone.
"But here there is no field, no field." Stirred. Waiting for the call of some of his friends. Some guy in questionable taste, of course.
"Look I am not sure, my property in the hands of two ravines Boche, with the face of Kraut, Kraut clothes, the voice of Kraut. Do I look like someone who sells his property to Nazis? Eh? ".
"I do not think the joke if ...".
"And those kids? Never been more serious. I do fear those two old men.. "
"Do as you like, you broke my balls for a year, and now that I've found someone to pay, you pull back? You are a shelter ... "
" What's the hurry? It 's just the first meeting. Maybe they wanted two davvvero Nazis. Priebke! Here! He looks like Priebke! The monster of Ardeatine, is his brother. "
"Do what you believe, but come with the money later this month. we have the grain the Germans. "
The two have returned, I was close wrinkled hands, and they are gone, with the ncrescioso commitment to meet again soon. Pure Louis is gone.
"I'll stay here, I walk two steps, after.."
"But I'm 4 miles away.."
"I know, we feel.."
I walked around the fields, ate two apricots, Vispe saw two lizards from the ground, quivering and afraid. I'm lying on the grass and I smoked a cigarette. The birds sang tirelessly, I came to take them to gunshots. Then I remembered that repudiation of the weapons, it says. I watched the sky. Among the discrete clouds, I saw two funny dwarf with a pipe, and a polar bear who was a bidet.
I went into the house. There were the remains of the last time. Hard bread surrounded by a brownish transparent ants, various pickles, majonnaise expired, a withered apple, empty bottles. In one there was wine. Me I am drained down one's throat. Harsh and revolting. Excellent. I lay in bed. I imagined that in a while 'you recline their gaunt cheeks and mushy, the two Teutonic Aryan from hospice. They have a foot in the grave, laughing and buying. I am a young sapling and sell, with the face of Italian sad that scale the Alpe d'Huez. They sing hymns disguised Nazis eat sauerkraut. What a mess! I, who had big plans for that place. Married, living annuity and snerchiuta creative writing or art. Together with my young bride, semi-illiterate and a woman alcoholic, but with the artistic soul and a sensitive ass. We lived on pastoralism, fruits of the earth and selfless love. "Women make love, because between us there is no need to talk to you now ... I want to be worthy, you are queen of my little kingdom, which in my world is small, there is a light that comes from the heart." Sure, you asshole. Grow up, asshole! that you no longer sixteen. And stop with these pathetic songs! I often speak to myself.
Before you sell me I must come to the last key, the next order seems propitious. I was about to fall asleep, and I imagined a cunt I whistled sweet words dirty love. So I decided to masturbate. I pulled out of his trousers, looked distressed c'aveva and hot, but the chapel was already bloated. I took a firm lead him hither calm. And I have come. Then m'è got a bit 'of depression and slept.

If any reader is interested in a rustic fuck, before selling the Krauts, please send me an email with CV. And attached three photos: Chiappe, lips and back. It inspires me back. Since July I could only guarantee a normal apartment.

voster-always-voster

Friday, May 22, 2009

Free Wooden Playset Blueprints

Small-soaked pleasure foamy kisses





Then the train arrived almost on time. The station already swarming. Frenetic activity and trembling. Suitcases and noisy wheels. All confident, strutting and well dressed. I looked at my reflection in a shop window. A tuft of hair on his face calm down, defeated and indomitable. I arranged it, went back down. Then I did not think more. I made my way without feeling even the legs and head. A bitter coffee, and then elbows jostling, chattering tremendous. What was I doing in the midst of that horrible swarm cicaleggiante? I sat on the edge of what must have been a fountain, turned into a meeting place for derelicts. A group of blacks with dead eyes and the wine was in cardboard keep an eye on two gendarmes hardworking. Leafing through the newspaper. "The tissues of the president." Eager students of the "school of politics." Yet I was with a "butterfly" in the grass. I practiced a clumsy blow job lined in 2001, and then We made a home standing, with her face to the wall. The following days if they made other friends. Over the years his tastes have matured. But I can not say more, go for a cowardly braggart. A libelous.
I threw the newspaper and looked around. A kind of Jesus wandered pay for shiny corridors of the station. Dragging a rusty contraption for carrying your luggage. We had placed plastic bags, and walked around looking like being chased by evil demons. Dragged him almost like a delicate stroller. She was dressed in rags worn and dirty, greasy hair of him falling on his shoulders, his eyes were wide open and spirited, then agitated, again wide open. I wonder what he could see. Every now and then bent and picked up cigarette butts. Sketched a strange smile, then waved his fists.
misbehavior! The world has become rude! People do not know education. "
for a split second I crossed his troubled eyes, gritted his teeth showing a grayish laugh hysterically. I was scared. Then he bent down again, picked up more cigarette butts and went on his lap.
left the messiah and I walked. The underground train, then another on the surface. The girl lived out his hand. A large fraction separated from the nerve center of nowhere and tousled. The sky seemed cruel, gray and heavy as a thick slab of steel. Bumpy roads, trails of mud, then trees, and here's his lovely mansion, with a sloping roof and a large garden. A little 'I was glad to see her again, but I had a great sleep and a pain from his legs, went up my spine and ended like a rusty nail in the meninges. The wet pavement beneath my feet crunched read, and I thought a bit about her. I had met by chance. A naive roommate brought me home. A decent dinner. Then we spent the night drinking Sicilian wine. The friend went to amuse with his friends in msn, and we remained to drink wine. We slept on the couch drunk. Fucked gently before the sky cleared. We continued to see each other when it happened. Just to alleviate our loneliness with pleasurable orgasms. We fuck and put it in the ass to boredom. What else is love but a series of fucking miserable? His eyes were deep and dark, always trying to make a heavy, black, messy hair orange, long on the front and faded on the neck, slender legs, muscular, clear and a bit 'wrong, a nice par menacingly toward the pointed roof exterior, and the proportion disietro and soon. Physical slender and a pussy smooth and fleshy. I mean, I attracted a lot. Recalled a furtive sex and treacherous. But she had a man there. Not interest him much, out of a bed. We were well matched. He did not do anything and I never managed to explain how he afford that beautiful home. Affluent parents or hustlers looking for. In the end I did not care. Made the evening less cruel.
It was not changed much in six months. He wore a white shirt and baggy, and a pair of boxer shorts and white striped lilac. Her hair was a little unnatural and 'upset, his eyes still violated by sleep. He greeted me with a kiss and a hug. Sloppy and soft. Then in a kitchen, a few words for the occasion. I watched with mocha shake with cold. I looked at my legs and skin. The best thing about Daniel is the skin. Clear, delicate, almost helpless. We drank coffee, then lit a cigarette. He did not look happy, but my words the fun. The secret to women is to have a nice bull diameter and make them laugh. I do not do it on purpose. What is true and terrible story, and they laugh.
"So you have two poles company blondes tonight ...".
"You joke, but it was horrible! They looked real, the vampire ... they wanted to kill me. Do you have a meaning? ".
"I do not think ... it's just a nightmare.".
"Maybe, but since I dreamed Gad Lerner in thong I winked persuasive, not I had such an awful ...". The
I ripped another involuntary smile.
I stubbed out his cigarette, and I had a nice warm shower.
I went out and she was lying in bed with the window open. Lamp on the dark sky and light that crept sad. He smoked thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling. I dried it right. Then I'm lying next to her and we kissed. A kiss very engaging. His tongue was no score, then I go along, I tried to capture her and sucked her lips. An obscene phone ring.
"It may be to work ...". It is justified.
("But what fucking job!"). I thought.
She got up, he waved Butt in tight boxer members, and answered. Jesus lush ass! I have on another, to scratch the throat. I looked at the pale sky-blue walls, topped by strange white marquetry. Then the window. The trees seemed exhausted animals and crooked, old and gnarled. And they tried to hold the hood, gray and menacing.
then jumping back with the steps. It accuatta thoughtful. A sudden start. Surprise and a thrill to welcome his tongue, hot and slow. What a wonderful feeling that moist heat and creeping along my fucking tired. I felt it grow and swell between her soft lips. With flame-red nails takes to caress the swollen balls, a scratch just below imperceptible. He knows how to play. Grab the chapel, the envelops, play with the edges. Pleased to hear them so swollen. E 'with fixed edges. It must be a psychological question. Almost to want to draw with the pointed tongue and hard, then suddenly returns to light as a feather wet, wrapped in dirty way. A slow kiss your lips and flowing along the stretched shit, who wants to burst. Subtract from him lips. My hands shake now, come back from the neck. I arched, trying to reach the buttocks. The fingers creep gone mad in that gap of inviting ass, and then unfolded on the pussy and wet. I just want to slap inside. Life is made up of simple things. But she does not fit, subtract, it makes me draw as before. I forgot, she likes things always end. One at a time. Method and nasty. A moan and again at the tip covered with a dirty sheen, the swallow, suck as he leads hard, chisel sucks like mad and possessed, if he sinks into his mouth. Respro I feel his excitement and his mount, in sync with mine. I'm about to explode. She slows down, cruel, and even wet his lips tickling the thread and follow him down to his balls. Two more rounds of language and a violent stream that dirty mouth. It pushes the other jets rubbing his lips, like little kisses, pleasure-soaked foam. He gets up, is on my chest, and the hand continues to stroke. While out of the trees are shaken by gusts of wind scary.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

/usr/lib/php5/20060613 Lfs/ Is Directory

Two Finnish death and killing that dance on gypsy music


The girl, Friday is not coming. In every sense. The running of his lustful hole has failed miserably (or just postponed?). Who knows. In the final game will take all of me. They do not appreciate my feeling fine and deep. And then there
tells a story of the end of April. Another mouthful of my cock, in fact.
away, toward Rome. International courts and social life, without a penny in his pocket. Travel in a busy night for the indigent misfits, ragged and abroad. Fortunately empty compartment, and then a frantic shouting. A cigarette eaten during a break in a remote station. A black two-meter deep blue with huge pockets, brought out of the carriage. The zealous conductor, it pushes hard, looking stern. He reacts piqued. He looked grim.
"Fuck man, fuck rasista of shit." What
mica reacts well.
"Hey you, what did you say? Learn education, lazzaroni rude! Fuck you and whoever does get in Italy.. " She looks at me, look for confirmation. I nod. I keep it good. Maybe I'll smoke in the corridor. Life is made up of compromises.
The boy leaves and dangling snuffed some insult. Guilty of not having a ticket and want to do it by train. So reckless sketch, a question to the conductor:
"Excuse me, but the ticket can not be done also on board?".
mutters, mumbles something unknown.
"Yes, you can ... you could say ... but these scoundrels have to learn the education! What do we do in Italy! Let me see your ticket you rather. "
I understand you have made a bold step. I disappointed with my impertinence. A scoundrel I must have seemed progressive. Shows it to him, the way hole in the nervous and went into the night, looking for other foreign beggars. Then
return. Enter two guys well. Are stacked. They laugh, then they fight, s'insultano. At the end of open seats, raise their shoes and lie down. One of them pulls out a clear cover and lies down. Must be used, a normal thing. They begin to snore, as wild boars, in a synchronous surreal. And give off a peculiar smell, unbearable. I grab my purse as a professional failure, and I slowly into the hall.
"orange, cold beer, aranciataaaa." Walking with a funny accent and a Neapolitan panzetta sickly. I'd fired four of the station, take three more cans of peroni. Eight euro. Escapes any mathematical law.
"Eh, I made you a discount ...". Shows me with his eyes smart.
"Ok.".
Stapp, sip and watching the scenery fly out. Every so often a house isolated, with orange lights still on. That they will be doing still standing? And I, what am I doing in that horrible train? I have not slept 64ore around and I'm sitting on a folding stool in the corridor of a train miserable, led nowhere. The idea to shoot a bullet in the head takes a few seconds. Then I remember being a conscientious objector, he is not authorized to use weapons. What am I to reject violence. Even against me. I arrest you even in death. What a ridiculous paradox. From wherever you look, they always manage to fuck. It untap another. E 'warm as piss, but that is. Must be satisfied. I expect a nice warm pussy and a two-day VIP village digress in the hole, discuss in the back back. Better than working in the fields.
'm broken, I hurt the kidneys. I need to sleep, I'm not a cocaine addict, and not even organize feasts with young gay prostitutes seek. I will never do politics. I try to sleep with her head bent forward. Like a horse. But I can not. There is nothing more heinous of the will and power. The secret is not thinking about it. It has been another. I lift the tab and watch the sunrise flowing unveils rugged mountains in the distance. I mean, you often see the sunrise. Rarely check to see it in motion. Different but always the same. Even in that jalopy nauseating, there is something beautiful to marvel. And the fools if they are sleeping. I finish the third well and remain on the seat.
begin a beautiful dream. Two poles Finnish dancing and smiling lasciviously, around my bed. Smell of incense, wild grass and vanilla. Sway wink and half-naked, with strange golden ribbons around hair flowing like waves resigned. They wear a sky blue dress, short and exciting, with a belt, gold also, to enclose the sides. Cloth that barely covers their legs and sparkling clear. The nipples popping discrete swelling under the dress light and silky. On the sides of the belt, I saw a leather pillow and a knife. What they do with a dagger? He hands me big bunches of grapes and wine mash, as devout maidens. A kind of paradise. And dance to gypsy music. Then crouch trembling, I embrace all panting, squeak, squeal launch discrete and suffused as suckling pig. Sway, wiggle your ass a few inches from my face. I can not resist, I approached one at random. The pick up the dress. Do not take the slip Satan. A hand creeps into those marble buttocks. Jesus, a smooth pussy, and cold. A kind of icing flows through the morning slot at large. I lost. One starts to kiss me. Lip ice, icy, icy light as a feather. Lips of the corpse. The other rider begins to rub and lick his cock slowly. A piece of ice that caress the balls swollen, soft and glides back along the shaft swollen up to the chapel. The blonde Scandinavian We had sharp teeth and disturbing, but do not feel mica. Just a horrible cold that goes on. The other continues to kiss me and smile. A light comes out of the murderous and chilling blue eyes. Jesus, I discovered two bodies that want to kill me. I'm dead, or just crazy. The trill of the phone saves me from a deadly cumshot.
"when you arrive?".
"At 6.30 I think.."
"In half an hour you mean.."
"Yes But you're already awake? "
" You know I'm early morning ... you could stand? ".
"I had just fallen asleep. I was having a nightmare. Two Finnish death raped me and wanted to devour me slowly. Terrible! Terrible! ".
few seconds of awkward silence.
"Ok, then tell me."
"Okay, hello."
"See you later.".
Poor girl. It is to understand it. Who would for two days at home, a dream that two Finnish death and killing, dancing to gypsy music? Perhaps she really loves.
(What happened the next morning, write it next time. Now I broke my dick. And the cigarettes are gone.).

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Johnny The Homicidal Maniac Clothes

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.