When I was brought to Petersburg, I did not imagine the scale of the disaster. Of course, I’ve heard that the climatic conditions of the region for 300 years adversely affect the brains and physiology of the natives, but I had no idea that everything is so fucked up.
All and I mean ALL the women in St. Petersburg suffer from the triple. They already fucked up don’t know what else to wear (or itself, on the contrary, to remove) and what place is more spread and in what way, to at least one of those fucking St. Petersburg boys tore your fucking mouth from the nipple with a beer and looked at them. Some do succeed. Take a look at them. If you have decided that those rare lucky ladies then bloom then fuck you guess. Because the eyes cannot eat, but to breed for fuck unreal finally.
At the same time, local boys (we call them “boys” because I really suspect they’re all either virgins, or neuters, because can’t a normal guy not wanting to fuck), conversations very often cockerel – “Yes, I was flogged as a gray goat”, “Yes fucking fuck women call”, “fuck one or the other”, and the bazaars are conducted deliberately in the presence Bab. It creates the illusion that you finally got to the coveted BDSM hell, and finally you will tear off the two bow as a human, without sentiments and slobbering excuses. Salmon used to swim there. (Russian idiom meaning something incredible)
A few examples from the life of local women will make the hair on your asses turn gray and curl with horror.
One year (a YEAR!!!) Spud the lad next door and he “wrapped” her from the master’s shoulder to fuck once a month.
Who does not suffer from the disease of the brain, it is easy to calculate using the third sign of equality of triangles that bitch broke off 12 sticks per year. Well, maybe there’s 14, if you’re lucky enough to suck the twins out of it a couple of times. How’s that? AS MANY AS TWO-ON-AGAIN!!! (Remark: chick-fucking, the center of attention everywhere, chiseled figure, the brain is present).
My question is: “Yes the fuck it is you crap so beautiful?” replies, eyes downcast sadly: “Yes, this is the only one who GIVES”. (Ladies and gentlemen, if 12 times, sit on the cock annually, means “gives”, the language of human scarce and shy to describe my sorrow for this issue. For me, 12 times a night, it’s certainly too much, given my advanced years, but a couple of nights and – the plan exceeded. Horror, in General.)
Asking cautiously, “um, as it is the only one who gives?”. It turns out that’s how it is: to make St. Petersburg the boy to spread, you have about a month to get into his eyes, then another month about to blush, meeting eyes once a week, then go to the movies or the theater, and discuss it on ICQ for another month, then another fucking month to spend on it to meet on the weekends, the bitch-fucking-fuck-please-fucking Krestovsky island where to feed the fucking ducks with a bun and melt, and then (this is what, 4 months have passed, right?) allow yourself to kiss the lips at the entrance, and then, if you’re lucky to avoid the Registry Office, that month three or four, maybe you and fuck, after all minor formalities, like 80+ visits to the Hermitage and met his mother, a respectable old woman in a mobcap with ruffles, proudly seated under an oak antique table in the thirty-meter room in a communal apartment 16-rooms communal apartments on the Big Podyacheskaya street overlooking the Griboyedov Channel. Total fucking 7 months at least. I think that this is how much of Foundation for this time transferred to the smearing of acne?!?
You have balls not shrunk in two raisins?
My other friend quite happily sits down on cock one friend pepper at almost any time as long as this animal is not found a girlfriend from Belarus. Then there was the friend stated: (quote) “You fucking sucked and I never fucked anyone cooler than you, and constantly want you, but I have to go (the animal is 24 years old) to get married, and it’s kind of like you don’t need”. Girlfriend two days I walked with mouth opened, there was raining and the snow fell, then caught her breath and asked: “are Old, but at least it’s fucking?” And received the reply that they STILL haven’t FUCKED because (Oh, gods!) they’ve ONLY been together 3 months and he’s afraid to spoil the relationship with the daughter of sunny Belarus living in his house, and sleeping, respectively, with him in one bed because the other bed in the lonely one-room apartment no. Naturally, my friend was sad and wanted to look at the damned rival somehow.
I wish she hadn’t done that.
The object turned out to be a 23-year-old sheep with a gap in the finger between the upper teeth and a reprimand of such property as in the hay market in the area of trays where potatoes are sold. The miracle of the Institute of culture fucking.
In General, a friend is drinking antidepressants and looking for another fucker. Six months now.
The third unhappy, 27 years old, lives 6 years with a man who contains and who has not fucked her for a year but does not allow her to communicate with her friends and arranges hysterics if she is delayed from work for half an hour. On attempts to fuck “husband” reacts painfully and grumbles, that she has-de “one thing only on the mind – fucking”
The girl became angry, falls unreasonably into aggressive States, hysteria and covered with pimples, but does not expel, because he hopes that he will still fuck her.
Now my story is, so to speak, an investigative experiment, the most lights of all the above, for my beloved husband, may the oil be shed on his head and the path is lined with its pink petals as if not from this city of God-saved at all came out. Therefore, I need to take care of him like the apple of my eye, and if something happens to him, I should sit in acne until the end of the centuries in this fucked Petrograd city.
At work, I sit with four stallions from 26 to 31 years old, who constantly make it clear to me that I would not mind, in principle, to have fun. Conversations I have not repressed, on the contrary, I knowingly assent, and certainly giving to understand that it’s all peachy, they say, to party with co-workers. After a month of such calls and a clear reference, I still came to work in a short skirt, stockings and no underwear.
And came, waited for the right moment and bent down in the bottom drawer of the table in the most favorable angle for all four. Pausing for half a minute in the pose of a drinking deer, so that the boys had the opportunity to evaluate what they saw, I as if nothing had happened proceeded to the table, scrolling in my head options for jokes in case of a collective rapping. In vain she feared. Four red as crayfish lads hastily found something to do: two tried to talk on the phone, one buried his head in the computer and the last just jumped out of the office, apparently, to masturbate in the toilet.
Four in one.
“My mother has seen many people in her lifetime: met with wizards, and with monsters, and with elves…and now he sits and rejoices: how deftly she cheated Jarg Weaver, a man who twice did not receive the title of Village Idiot just because he was removed from the competition because of complete, absolute idiocy. She’s going downhill. What’s next? Soon she starts to giggle evilly, muttering nonsense and roast in the oven kids?…”(C) Terry Pratchett “Masquerade”.
Fuck, of course, is out of the question. St. Petersburg boys are more likely to bite off their dick than admit that you can fuck just to fuck.
In General, in this fucking town St. Petersburg, a woman can easily walk around without pants around the clock and completely careless. And if someone at first sight still fucked you in St. Petersburg on a sober head, without sentimentality and BEFORE the Registry Office, try to get the maximum pleasure and remember it in all details for a long time, because it is a hundred poods – a visiting person and 99% – a resident of Moscow, and a and fuck you still see him again.
Best of all, get the fuck out of here.
And here are two quotes for the road:
“This island is not for people but for ghosts” (C) “Pirates of the Caribbean” and “If you value your life and sanity, keep away from the moor”(C) “the hound of the Baskervilles”