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What the fuck did this lovelace keep him – I don’t fuck with yours, but I think that this blind man’s buffoon was like his talisman, or something.
So, my third

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eye opened and – closed.
But! I had a vision, or rather a vision.
It turns out that corpses have their own lives! The corpse mascot was an amazing romantic.
Being a constant witness of how his embalmer randomly and heartlessly fucks women in coffins and not only in them, he condemned it and, lying motionless to the side, argued in such a way (I write as “I heard”): “.
Where’s the justice? Alexey is a prominent man, very sexy (I couldn’t compare with him in life!).
Although he has a profession – not a pleasant one, beautiful women fly to him like butterflies into the light.
They were very, very much.
I waited all the time, but not one of them even looked at me.
Yes, Alexey is handsome, but he is as cold as a corpse.
I am a corpse, but I am terribly romantic and I have a huge supply of unspent tenderness! Girls, I understand you: of course, I can not boast of either the first or even the second freshness, but still waiting for my love, without losing hope.
Alive, they, too, very often don’t look comme il faut, but even being the last ZAVALYU, they count on having sex with at least Monica Belucci or Aishwarya Rai there.
They are all cynics, callous soulless, they are an order of magnitude more dead than me, because a heart without love is dead.
I am not that – I do not need perfect beauty.
I want to caress.
From the moment of the death, I have, never again! I, in a new capacity, well, still a virgin.
True, I need to be more gentle with me, because I can break, fall apart – I am so vulnerable.
I am very chaste, shy.
Who are you, my swindler, where do you go? When will we get close? Forgive me for the flaws that caused me to die.
Forgive me!
It was July 3, 2001.
My friend has no one at home.

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We decided to have a drink with him.
We wanted to invite more girls, but it didn’t work out.
Well, let us drink in two hari vodka.
Drank a bottle of 0.5 liters.
, want more.
let’s go to the pavilion
wake up vodyary.
We look: at the table the girl sits, alone, at one in the morning.
Well, we came: trawling-poplar.
We went with her to our house to plump.
They drank vodka, went to the balcony to smoke, smoked and I tell a friend to go out.
He went out.
I squat on the heels around this freebie and say: “You knew where and why you were going?”.
“Well, come on.”
We climbed with her on the couch and let’s fuck.
Then the drugan naked jumped and we fucked this fucking into two holes at once.
She apparently completely torknul from vodka, in general, chopped off.
Let us wear it, do not leave it here, in the morning because dad will come.
Livchik and her underwear were not found, I doubt that they were.
so put on.
We found the handandas on the table among the booze and snacks.
We brought it to the street and think where to carry on.
the address is not known, but it is in the rub.
We look, and she still crap about.
Well, we threw it on the grass and went home.
GIRLS !!!!!.
it is not necessary to get into a drunken state alone to visit strangers.
Late in the evening, Lavrenty Pavlovich Beria unexpectedly looked in at the security officer Merkulov.
– Do not slow down, Merkulov, – he reassured, – I, so, smoke a cigarette.
Beria lit a cigarette, sat back on the table and absently looking at the ceiling asked: – Merkulov, have you ever done cunniling? But Merkulov did more than once cunniling, but did not know that it was called that, and therefore stupidly asked: – What? “I didn’t know either,” Beria sighed.
– This is, listen, woman language – well, this is – Muska.
Yeah I understood? Do you want to tell you how I learned these things? Merkulov painted on the face of attention.
And Lavrenty Pavlovich, glittering with his pince-nez and smoking a cigarette after a cigarette, told him the story of intimate, or rather, intimate-state content.
– Listen, Merkulov, just swear that you will not tell anyone – a matter of the greatest secrecy.
The atomic bomb next to this – ugh, seeds.
And to tell, listen, also someone wants, not all in itself to carry such a burden, right? Well, listen, it was a few years ago, Koba said on the Politburo: – I propose to discuss an additional agenda item.
Which one – we ask.
And Koba, listen, one word – the genius of all times – he says: it is necessary, they say, to seriously approach the perpetuation of the memory of the creators of bright socialism.
Well – all for, unanimously.
Koba walked around the office and continues: I propose, he says, to capture each of our statesmen in some kind of monumental canvas. Webcam anal hardcor.

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