Men Brazilian Wax Ejaculation Stories

Penelope


Penelope did not need to unravel the fabric to deceive the suitors and Odysseus wait. How does the other what is the end of what we're knitting?

We can weave endless. We can continue threading wool colors, bright, opaque. We can decide to weave a blanket that covers the world. Everything is a matter of time, desire, longing ... Same

not want to criticize Penelope because, really, also has its charm unravel ...

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Awakening

I dressed as raising fallen petals.

I emerged from the ruins, thinking

waking up to throw me into the river,

like no matter the ability to swim. Tanta

skin, so little breeze,

much water without thirst,

both garden without fireflies,

so many words, so hot, so safety

have awakened this morning I being too ...

(Painting: The Awakening of the maid. Eduardo Sivori)

Alternative Beautiful Agony

I did not think I had to use words to explain what it is understandable only to me, not because it is too complicated, but because I only see my world through my eyes, and others see nothing but the result of my decisions, not every stone in the path, not every rain that has drenched me. They do not see anything about me has outlined the features that I have today.

Do not disregard your gift, father, on the contrary. I reject it because I love too much my own view, and my own way of being.

No further explanation, father, that's obvious: cut my wings because they were heavy, and would not let me fly like I like.

Meningiis The Rash Itchy

The angel and the night monsters


All we wandered through the night across the dark blocks, looking just a corner where the night rest and accepts us all, comprehensive arms, he thought, while sinking in that night, still hearing the screams and moans that the closed door of a coup could not remove.

Everything can be transformed into memories, the same way that all could be forgotten. However, he knew that crying never be erased from your mind, because all the tears were still there in his head, and appeared as soon awoke, and populated his dreams of the most painful ways possible.

And the pain in the hand with which he had beaten was greater now that the anger was gone, and only fault. And he wondered why he continued to do so, and wondered why she forgave him.

The night meant everything, he thought, staring into the darkness without stars.

And, while returning in search of forgiveness many times awarded (but only for a moment of lucidity that erase too fast), he realized that the night did not understand nor accept, I was just accustomed and resigned to seeing the monsters walking through dark streets.

Photography: Brassai

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Scorpio Interested In Me

Other turkeys, boasted more skill of their beautiful feathers, seducing the world, but he could not. The shaking awkwardly, missing the time that were not there when he could concealed in the vastness of the forest.

But now comes the time where you only have to wait for the fall, when the feathers fall, and watered into the moist earth, for men to pick them up dazzled by the brilliance and beauty and he were free to be just a humble and beautiful bird, one more, in the forest.

photo: Amalia González