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Purchase bottles of whiskey, vodka, beer... Involves the irrepressible joy ahead. A memorable evening..the brain receives thousands of idle signals. Imagination is rampant with colors of unknown pleasures. Mind capture images of pleasure and debauchery. Sex is an integral part. Or is it a Mirage, or passion already waiting for the arrival. Sketches in the style of Boccaccio excites the body. Hormones do not stop to remind myself, all the lights in the perturbed shell! Legs instinctively go faster. The world is no longer interested. Memory goes by the wayside, all concentrated to the desired goal. Time no longer has that value. Here it is the entrance, a surge of and the last jump, and the door ahead.
Dream came true, the hurried bustle at the door, a few stupid jokes and words. Undressed. Package with cherished in sight. Kitchen. Where's the damn corkscrew. The next lady, but it is only a Supplement to the future of alcohol. The soul, the call of love and fidelity. Ah, leave. Alcohol that best friend. Not noticing my friend are working on a future snack. The smell and taste of the liquid already in your mouth. The thought goes away, she hugs a lady in the front. Drank first. She became nicer. And interesting jokes. Want her! Second went. And, she's smart. Why not seen this before? But, that's no problem, you will be mine. The third drunk. Need standing and in silence. For those who are at sea who died. Gods, the look in her eyes. Look at it as a sacrifice. No, it is not the object of love and affection, and the surrogate constructor, which can bring into your life, the fragments of emotions. Blouse, drunk view opens new possibilities. Her breathing makes your blood rushing to the vital organs. Head is going to explode from an overdose of testosterone. Touch it, touch her. Some peace is possible and the fourth wipe. Here it is, no, it's not a woman. Goddess, no less. Member still standing. You need to act. Attempts are being made. Yet. But, let's have another drink? She agrees, the glee of drunken consciousness, pours alcohol by the drink. Now you're all mine. My Kingdom and power, YOU! Sixth, seventh, eighth. Dizzy, double vision, hands lustful climb in all intimate places. Savagery, evil, wildness and complexes climb over the edge. You're not a woman. The object of my lust, animal instinct, proof of my power. Your breaking in vain, sex is in full swing. Drunk Sadamisaki, half-dead criminal and sex in action. Fragmented flashes of movement in the darkness. Cruelty filled with alcohol enters the woman. No strength to finish. No strength to move. WHO ARE YOU WOMAN? I hate you, why drink so much. Consciousness provides no bonus in the form of orgasm. Drunken sleep, headache and dry mouth. î That was the night that I? The view to the right. What is it? Body, skin, scent, causes irritation. It seems endlessly strange, unimaginable shattered relationship with a kind and tender feelings. Sagging focuses the gaze, the web of capillaries oppressed, and the feet are generally terrible. Memories of a possible affection of the missing. Water, brine, whatever. Who are you woman? Caressed you? Did you? Where were my hands and lips, failure of memory. WHO AM I? Eyes puffy veil, loose skin and unpalatable smell?! I? Male??? But, with whom I spent the night? With a woman?