/ Stories / Pickup history
I am a translator of Intourist, I work with French groups. The distant but wonderful 70s were standing now. Our work was very responsible and tense, the era was like this - solid rallies and political studies. Even in restaurants there was no time to sit quietly, constantly had to translate toasts and talking about friendship, in short, solid strained. If you’re lucky and you don’t need to sort things out with the kitchen, you can only manage to skip a glass and pick a fork in a salad. Just what's wrong ...
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The summer rain fun pounded on the roofs, on the leaves of the trees and on the asphalt, still warm from the sun. He suddenly rushed, as befits a summer rain, refreshing the streets after the heat. The people who rushed to where, to hide under the visors of houses, to the entrances, wherever possible. I, too, rushed into the first doorway, stopping in the arch between two small houses. Recklessly thundered thunder, as if mocking people trying to hide from the shower. But summer rain is not long and after ten - ...
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“Based on the above data, we can conclude that this model of behavior cannot be reliably beneficial in a steadily expanding market ..." Yes, yes, yes, how ... "- spun in my head in response to all this bombastic heresy . There was only the third pair of classes, but the strength to listen was not already from the second half of the first pair. And anyway, what the hell a couple, when outside such a wonderful weather - the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the grass is green. Girls in mini, super mini and just frankly defiantly ultra mini ... Overcomes longing and immense sadness, because I can not ... Stop. Why can't I?
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Zhenka woke up early, although it was a day off, and she had nowhere to hurry. She relaxed a bit, and then sat down in front of the TV in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. She lived alone, separated from her husband two years ago because she would never have children, and he really wanted babies. Separated quietly, peacefully, remaining good and good friends. For some reason, she always did it with men: even after a stormy and passionate romance, they remained friends, occasionally called back ...
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The love of writing Virts led me to a group of strong personalities in this regard. Not long hanging out, I realized that it was mine and was actively involved in the game. In one of the themes were considered, married, chose a bedroom, and then described the wedding night. And after three days they changed partners. I decided to play, the pair got close quickly. I didn’t even look at the photo, it’s still for three days, the main thing is to write it together and manage to light it. I started writing while playing, and suddenly I was so lighted up that I forgot about everything ...
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I read the story "With my mother at the camp site." He hooked me. Obviously, the story focuses on the seduction aspect. True, the parts are not detailed, but schematically. As far as I could, I painted these places, removed the implausible moments.
I am also not a supporter of the demonstration of inter-ethnic relations between Caucasians and Slavic women. But:
1. If I had changed the partner’s nationality, the story would have been completely changed;
2Women are to blame for their accessibility .;
So I left ...
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I am also not a supporter of the demonstration of inter-ethnic relations between Caucasians and Slavic women. But:
1. If I had changed the partner’s nationality, the story would have been completely changed;
2Women are to blame for their accessibility .;
So I left ...
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Well, that is why, when you turn 25, and you are not yet married, then everyone considers it their duty to you to look for the groom? Rita, angrily shook her head and ran out of the house. Classmates and girlfriends have been married for a long time, some have two children already. Sometimes they resort to her kitchen to cry on their lives, on their husbands, but still they try to persistently shove her into the framework of family life. She was so tired of these nerds with glasses, or blunt jocks, that she was afraid to go to visit. After all, knowing that an unmarried lady will come ...
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Hooray! Received! Moscow, I'm going. Now from my city N, I am going to study at the Moscow State University at the Faculty of History. In the middle of August, having settled everything at home, I found myself in a dusty, hot Moscow. My room in the hostel was still empty for a couple of weeks before the start of the semester, and I had to take something up. I walked around Moscow a lot, took interesting excursions and wandered the streets alone. In the evening, I usually went to a cafe, not far from the uni, and after, I returned to my empty room.
How...
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How...
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Reconcile with her husband failed. It was decided to live for some time separately. The teacher’s salaries were not enough for Olya’s needs, so she found a neighbor in a one-room rented apartment for a conscientious rent. At the same time in revenge on her husband, she registered a questionnaire on a dating site. To run on dates the married Olga has begun constantly. Considering how now she was drawn to treason, not the most sensible step. But it should be noted until she changed and behaved like a faithful wife. Just ate ...
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I never told this story to anyone. And it is unlikely to tell, though - I do not promise. I am writing it now in order to let go, to let go completely - not to think, not to remember, not to rethink. Neither “for whom”, nor “for what” or “why”. Simply. Yes ... This is one of the few times when I do something just like that. But no, it’s not easy either - to lighten your soul. Why am I telling this paper story? I am ashamed to tell it to anyone. I am always ashamed ...
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