- Lanita in Thailand. Part 1: Russian Emmanuel
- Lanita in Thailand. Part 2: Street debauchery
I would like to delete. no continuation.
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All morning Lana does not leave the room: jokes are bad with the tropical sun. Only by noon she, barely moving her legs, crawled out onto the balcony, holding in her hand a cup with undercooked coffee and a piece of bread spread with jam. And like last time, it “forgets” to throw something on itself. She is noticed, smiling, waving her hands in a friendly way. But naked nymph is not going to go down, she still feels weak, she has a slight chill. After standing at the railing, finishing my coffee and deciding that I had enough to show off ...
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The phone was silent for a week. The first three days, Alice was attached, waiting for a call or a message from Herman. On the fourth I was worried in earnest ... Every now and then I was grabbing the phone, listening for a long beast for a long time. On the fifth, she did not find a place, meaninglessly walked from corner to corner, which was evident to everyone. “Has our Lisonie got sick,” colleagues whispered, “or maybe she has some kind of grief, or an emergency?” Seeing her excited state, the chief let her go.
Wandering around the shops aimlessly, breathing in gas polluted air ...
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Wandering around the shops aimlessly, breathing in gas polluted air ...
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She dressed like he asked: stilettos, stockings with a belt, a long beige cloak, and no underwear. Excited nipples rub against the rough lining of her outerwear while Alice is walking down the stairs. The vagina is pleasantly tickled by a barely tangible draft of the porch, wading under the cloak. Feeling almost naked is unusual and exciting. The front door creaked, the girl fluttered out of the warm entrance into a frost, not protected vagina, feeling cold, squeezed, hiding the clitoris deep into ...
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On a broad avenue Mustang enters the bridge. The car, without reducing speed, rushes through the narrow streets of the reserve. Trees, gates, houses, pillars flash before Alice’s eyes. Memories of youth piled on her. She recognizes these places, the heart beats anxiously. The same road, the same turn, the same hotel, the hotel of her distant youth. There can be no mistake, she has been here before. The chain of distant events pops up from the depths of memory. Here are the gates, they are also painted in dark green paint. Security guard...
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She woke from the cold. The blanket is crumpled. On the left, measured snoring, lies the male body.
"Oh my God!", - the woman looks at her watch and jumps up: "He is already waiting, and I ...?"
Quickly having washed, having finished eyes and lips, she puts on. There is no time left for breakfast. Catching a handbag, in which her panties and stockings rest, she minces up the stairs.
Morning coolness burns bare legs, climbs under the skirt, tickles, already wet, vagina. A young woman hastily goes to her car ...
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"Oh my God!", - the woman looks at her watch and jumps up: "He is already waiting, and I ...?"
Quickly having washed, having finished eyes and lips, she puts on. There is no time left for breakfast. Catching a handbag, in which her panties and stockings rest, she minces up the stairs.
Morning coolness burns bare legs, climbs under the skirt, tickles, already wet, vagina. A young woman hastily goes to her car ...
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I wonder how old the author was when he saw this “Emmanuel”. And how old he is now. And isn’t he an analogue of Pelevinsky Sasha Blo, a fat and bald father of the family, writing erotica with “Damien”, “Lanita” (old Russian “Lanits?
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and mine is generally some kind of plagiarism I read something like this on this site
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