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On TV show other countries.
It seems that people are the same as ours, and cafes are different there, bars and vodka sell beer.
And all sober.

Maybe

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I don’t understand, maybe vodka is special there, doesn’t make an animal out of a person, or just don’t drink there? Well no.
Drink.
I saw it myself.
But why not a single drunk on the street? Why does not the father beat the mother at the entrance for all, and these “all” do not care? Strange.
I won’t go home anymore.
Feet will not lead.
Igor is no longer in the city.
He went somewhere, and I also wouldn’t allow you to slobber your cock with someone’s nasty mouth.
Slap in the market for a penny? No, really! Enough
Sasha leaves the garage in a week.
Must choose.
That’s the “twenty”.
Must choose.
The front wheel is unreliable, it can be noticed in time.
The back is better.
Especially their two.
Here you will not miss! And I spat on this downpour! Let yourself pissing on a sobering city.
I choose the REAR WHEEL.
Chapter One It was not surprising that Vanya Rassudin had a birthmark in the shape of a triangle, or in the shape of a heart, where it is rounded, moving into the shoulder, if it seems more poetic to the reader.
It was not surprising, because who does not have them, although not on the shoulder and not in the form of a heart? – there was nothing surprising in the fact that no one saw this mole, and who saw, did not pay much attention.
Somewhat surprisingly, this morning, standing at the window opened, but curtained with a mustache, Vanya himself was looking not at the courtyard and the lilac blossoming behind him, not at the blue summer sky, not at Nero, who was running, but at his hand, squinting and lowering the sleeve of the shirt.

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Let us suppose that the hand was very cute, in an adolescent manner, almost thin, but round, from the early sun and a mole that seemed white and pinkish — but what would you look like a quarter of an hour at your own hand? Nevertheless, this contemplation obviously occupied the boy very much, because he knelt at the door and lazily and reluctantly put on the lowered sleeve and, depicting displeasure on his round, somewhat snub-nosed face, went hastily to wash himself.
A knock at the door meant that Uncle Esper Petrovich had already gone into the dining room and began to work at the New Time, which struck half past eight, and that in this house no dreams and contemplations, even the most innocent, should violate the established order.
Probably, Vanya had a more languid look.
than was supposed to be an uncle’s life, because Esper Petrovich, glancing from behind the newspaper with his gray, somewhat dull eyes, asked his nephew: – Did you sleep well, boy? you are something pale.
As if in denial of the speaker’s words, he blushed from ear to ear, Vanya replied: – Well, it seemed so to you.
– If something bothers you, open up: you know, I have no prejudices.
“I know that, but I have nothing special to tell you.”
“So much the better,” answered his uncle, “you need to avoid emergency matters.”
The boy didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t wait until the end of tea-drinking and his uncle’s departure into the office: it seemed to him that Peter lags along with the rolls; And Cossack Andrew is not promptly pouring and delivering tea; and that he knocks his boots and hurts the chairs more than ever; and that the newspaper contains a double quantity of telegrams, chronicles, dead persons and satirical articles; and that Esper Petrovich is chewing more slowly than usual – although everything happened in this bright dining room, similar to a mess-room, like yesterday, like the third day, like a week ago.
He did not know how to stay behind the books, how to sit out for breakfast (oh, a long, unbearable, hateful breakfast!) Until the hand finally shows the desired three hours.
Out of habit, and for speed, we call our hero a boy, but in reality it was already a young man of eighteen, somewhat thin, blond and pink – but when he, looking in the mirror, whispered: “she loves me,” smiled and kissed own reflection – of course, it was a boy, only a boy.
He whispered: “she loves me” and again, squinting, looked at the shoulder, as if under a white blouse, that mole was visible, from which the hand seems even whiter and rosier. Indian hidden cam xxx videos.

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