giornata di sole, oggi, finalmente. oddio non è che non fosse un giorno da stalattiti alle palle...corso buenos aires era pieno di fighette. non lavora più nessuno. tutte in giro a caccia di polli da spennare sottoforma di anzianotti in odor di levitra sul punto di tirar le cuoia. sbarbate a destra e a manca, una vera esposizione universale, porca puttana. sento nell'aria c'è già profumo di pussy that comes and goes, fuck, sounds like a song, lazy bitch. My wife had to tell me something about the food. is a manager, he earns and I do not know what is there to menarmela for those two pounds that I have to give. My children do not ever call me, do not see them for years. are mother's little robot, do only what she says. I wonder now if they were fags. with a mother like that. must not have been easy for her to tell my children that one reason for the divorce had been my constant request for a barrage of anal penetration. are things that mark them. especially a child. but anyway, I do not want to know, are the sons of bitches, by definition, that kind of a bitch is a bitch why would like to be fucked like a slut every day but always finds an excuse not to give it to you, to postpone, including styling, business briefing, menstruation, trips and shopping Sunday ... fuck it, some women do not deserve the luck that have happened: lamiaminchia, I had missed the connection, my dear readers wankers followers of Onan the Barbarian. and, above all, dear my many readers are looking for real now with sophisticated satellite males, with attributes and heavy odor of wild bush. within the cheers bar and order a ceres. jorge greets me and is for myself, I feel a demand for some dick that will change my mood for the worse and force me to tell my grandson to spread the news that Internet il cin cin bar sta diventando un posto gayfriendly. ma lui intuisce e tace. bravo jorge, proprio come una bella troietta remissiva, così ti voglio. che poi la remissività delle donne è un'arma come un'altra che sfoderano per scoparti comunque, parliamoci chiaro. esco e mi siedo al mio tavolino preferito. il terzo da sinistra guardando i tavolini dal marciapiede opposto. polizia esercito carabinieri ovunque. broccolano di brutto anche loro. a spese mie e della mia già miserabile pensione, porca puttana. fa niente, che volete che sia in questo paese di merda. se avessi più palle me ne andrei, in brasile equador thailandia vietnam o in un cazzo di paese arabo dove la mia moglie più giovane avrebbe 18 anni e mi amerebbe come nessuna mai, solo perchè Culture allows a country ... and we would evolve? ahhahahahahahahahahahahah, but go fuck you, fucking italianuculi. I'm the world republic of pussy sick, because in life, in addition to what, what's left? I tell you: taxes, bills, insurance, medicine, food to ex-wives (sluts), fines, speed cameras, only women who give money, money that are handled only by women etc etc ... while raving inside, which is not the definition of colitis, the inner ramblings, mind you, sitting at a table near a blonde getting older. a good old girl, one that, my nephew told me tireless wanker internett defined as MILF. now stands non mi ricordo che cazzo signiFICA, ma a dire il vero non me ne frega un cazzo nemmeno di dimenticarmi le cose, la memoria è una fottuta perdita di tempo, serve solo a farti ricordare quanto tempo hai perso in cose inutili: lavoro, politica, sport, cultura, musei, cinema, libri, giornali, matrimoni etc...io nella mia vita ho letto veramente tanto, e potrei scrivere dei libri, ma perchè dovrei perdere tempo con l'esfoliazione dell'amazzonia. ci pensano già gli scrittori attuali. ogni volta che apro il libro di uno scrittore italiano provo l'impulso di una cacarella. tutti, ma proprio tutti. mi viene in mente marques e quel suo personaggio, Florentino Ariza ( l'amore ai tempi del colera), beh, si, quello si che era un un uomo che had lived, slutty whore. did not need to write books, he laid the sperm of invisible ink asses of women of all types, property, physical, races, cultures, etc ... even when he was a poor as c'aveva and not a penny. and 'was my childhood myth. still, the years go by but I, not being certain rich prugnette trailer with all his might. and you know why? Because the more you will get, the more people are born queer. and 'normal. and even procreate, by gays. so will ensure the continuity of the species to the average Italian husband of two thousand years, giving a goodnight kiss to his wife and children, before going out at night hunting for cock. I am a man of another time and even though sometimes forced by the narrowness of my friends trans butt-fuck me, not that I will never be queer, but ... they give me for free because they know that their butts are a real boy, their appreciation is a further confirmation to my masculinity. a confirmation for them, of course. I never had doubts. but about prugnette. feel lady, I say, the MILF, like Giles, one would like the Ceres? No, thank you Mr. Egidio, too heavy for me, I prefer the Crown. Okay, 'I say, jorge, bring me a fucking Mexican Corona, please. jorge arrives shortly after with his expression fool. for him to be a waiter in Italy is the massimno. poor. I do not know What I'd give to a waiter in Fortaleza, slutty whore. what it's called, Madam, I say. want to end up talking like a moron? is only because I am old that I need to do all these salaams ... but my name is Cynthia. Sticazzi, I say, you've done baking this morning? no, she does, you can not stand the balls to do the Gentiles who believe talking to a woman getting on in years as in the nineteenth century, fuck. I mean, if you really want me to invite to the wedding, I say, I live near here.
15 minutes later: there was a blonde but very expressive face rough e. .. can I say? beautiful, legs apart on an Ikea Poang named Cynthia, and that bad as I panted the plunger more I can not. and while screaming like crazy, because I do not live in a mansion in Miami, but in a building, reminiscent of Florentino Ariza, I put a sock in my mouth (well, he takes a pacifier, but I'm more perverse). wrinkles have become more profound and the panting is more limited, but it was only make-believe, was taking breath, oh, say, continued to scream even with the sock in my mouth ... well, had to be that I was getting older, not the sock was pretty sweaty and smelly drugged for properly, I thought. then turns around and shows me that Giotto's masterpiece of ass, a true work of art. you plan, she says, with that thing, I would not have to resort to surgery platic This would be the first time in my life.
Egidio
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