Human fantasy is truly a limitless thing, and when it comes to sex, even a professional “mass entertainer” would envy the ingenuity, resourcefulness and imagination of the average citizen. As they say, the toastmaster is good, and the competitions are interesting. And who, if not the representatives of the most ancient profession, should know what perversions are in use among the people today, and what, so to speak, costs.
Today we decided to prepare for you a selection of anonymous stories from prostitutes about the craziest things a client has ever paid them for, from the popular English-language social network Reddit.
Essay on “Why I Love Sex?”
“I started my career as a sex worker when I was only 19 years old, and don’t judge me for it, I had my reasons. If we talk about strange clients, then once I came across a guy about 40-45 years old. In the tone of an authoritative university teacher, he demanded that I write an essay in literary English on the topic “Why do I love sex?” at least 300 words. At first I thought it was some kind of prelude to role-playing game about a teacher and a depraved poor student, but no. He sat next to me for more than an hour, watched me write, corrected spelling and lexical errors. I never had sex with him, but at the end, when he was paying, he said that the topic was not covered, and in general, I should work a little on my grammar.”
"Poor little dead stripper"
“A friend of mine worked as a bouncer at a cheap strip club, and he said that the bosses there didn’t particularly mind the local girls giving clients little “private shows” (if you know what I mean) after the performance. This guy, my friend, was, although kindest soul man, but in appearance he looks like a real gangster face. So, one of the local ladies had a rather terrible regular client who paid very well, so she agreed with my friend that for 30% of the “fee” he would hang around the area and insure her in case of an emergency. Why such precautions, you ask? It's just that this crazy guy was paying this girl almost four hundred bucks to lie on the bed with her head in his lap while he just stroked her hair and kept saying, "Poor little dead stripper."
Religious ecstasy
“I usually specialize in sadomasochism, you know, “mistress on call.” So, I had one regular client who paid for me to splash boiling water in his face and at the same time read passages from the New Testament. This is simply a grand prix in terms of the degree of abnormality. Compared to this guy, even the psycho who paid me to dress in all blue and pretend during sex that I was the girl from the Willy Wonka cartoon who turned into a blueberry pales in comparison.”
Honest taxpayer
“One guy paid me to fill it out from dictation. tax return no panties. 300 USD/hour.”
Literary connoisseur
“A friend of mine told me about a guy who paid her to stand in the corner, facing the wall, completely naked except for her combat boots, and read James Joyce’s Ulysses out loud.”
Who doesn't like dentists?
“I worked as an administrator in a sadomasochistic brothel, and we often had one unusual client. He paid girls to pretend he was giving them a dental exam, but instead of teeth it was their toes. Yes, yes, this is very strange. He ran an electric toothbrush over their feet.”
“The ABC of Health” with Malakhov
“The story is not exactly about prostitutes, but it’s still very strange. I worked as a DJ in a strip club, and we often had a strange, intelligent-looking guy who would pay strippers $200 to go to the toilet and pee in a cup for him. The girls loved him very much, because for them it was just free money. One time he took over from a new (and, by the way, stupid) girl, whom her colleagues didn’t like too much for her complete lack of brains, and for good reason. This man approached her, gave her money and a glass, but she didn’t want to go to the toilet, so she just gave the glass to our security guard. She returned the filled container to the “client”, he sniffed the contents, a very upset and disappointed expression appeared on his face, he looked at her and said: “But this is male urine!” After that, he turned around, left, and never came back. When the other dancers found out about this, they almost lynched this fool.”
total found: 1000
No texts were found for the "by phrase" mode, the result is for "any word"
Our man is in France for the first time and decides to run into
Try a French restaurant.
But I confused it with a brothel, and there are also tables there,
They drink coffee, everything is generally civilized.
He sits down, which means he is at the table, and the master (M) approaches him.
(M) - Monsieur wants a girl?
Ours - Nope..
(M) (with interest) - Then, probably, a boy?
Ours - Oh, what are you talking about...
(M) - What then does monsieur want?
Ours - Yes, I would like a rabbit, and with mayonnaise..
(M) (admiringly) - Oh!! Ms. e understands a lot about perversions!!
A climber who has been lost in the snow for a week comes across
to a high mountain brothel. Madame meets him at the door:
- Monsieur, do you want a woman?
- No, no, no, no...
- Monsieur, do you want a girl?
- No, no...
- Monsieur, do you want a boy?
- No, give me chicken baked in dough.
- Oh, monsieur understands a lot about perversions!!!
Foreign husbands. Popular models.
Many domestic consumers increasingly prefer
foreign husbands. When choosing a two-legged friend, it is important not to make a mistake. Here
the most popular models today.
Australian.
It is widely believed that they do some things like rabbits, but we hurry you
It's disappointing - that's how they eat.
American.
Unpretentious in food, eats straight from the refrigerator. But you'll be tired of doing the laundry
his flags.
Arab.
Taking on an Arab alone is difficult. It's better to team up with three friends.
But he will overwhelm four people with housework - cleaning his machine gun, burning
American flag...
Brazilian.
Life with him is a continuous carnival with songs and dances. If you get tired of it,
just give him a tambourine.
Negro (political correspondent: "afro-mazy").
He is very good in bed: from morning to evening he lies in it and does nothing.
German.
The main advantage is that he knows the fashionable language. Don't be afraid that he's a pedant
- this is not a perversion at all, and it is not transmitted to Russians.
Frenchman.
Inquire about the presence of a technical inspection and the mileage of the brothels. Not
take one with low mileage - it’s more expensive for yourself.
Japanese.
Economical choice. Doesn't take up much space. It is important to make sure that this is not
Taiwanese fake.
The man decided to buy a parrot. I went to the market and looked at one
From the counters there is a cage with a parrot and the price is $1000.
Well, he asks why it’s so expensive?
They answer that the parrot is very smart, knows a lot of words and easily
is studying.
The man paid, brought the parrot home, set up the cage and waited. Parrot
is silent. The guy waits for an hour, two - no sense. He begins:
- Well, talk, go ahead... Gosha is good, Gosha is good.
The parrot is silent.
This goes on for several days. The man is completely desperate, sits angry with
with red eyes, looks at the cage and shouts in anger:
- Gosha is good, Gosha is good!!
Parrot:
- Man, tell me, what are induction and deduction?
The man looks with dumbfounded eyes:
- Wow! Why were you silent before??? Yes, I don’t know such words!
Parrot:
- Well, who would talk to such an asshole?
Take off your panties and turn around.
- No, Dima, I don’t want it in the ass.
- Don’t be afraid, Natasha, it doesn’t hurt.
- And Lenka said it hurt.
- Lenka was spinning, I couldn’t really hit it, so it turned out to be painful.
- I'm shy.
- Natasha, we have known each other since school. And in general, I should be embarrassed
No need. For me it makes no difference whether you are a man or a woman.
-Can you not look?
- How will I get there if I don’t look?
- And you feel it.
- You can think of it too, by touch... Okay, open your mouth. Here, swallow it... Only
the pill is nonsense. The injection is more reliable. Go tell it there so that the next one
came in.
How sick of all this I am!
It's a damn job giving flu shots to those women from the textile factory...
America. Texas. One farmer's ranch.
A farmer drives around his property in a jeep and listens to the radio along the way.
The news is broadcast on the radio:
"...
- Russian scientist Sergei Vypendreshkin from the village of Lukoshkino, while at
myself at home, lying on the sofa, I came to the conclusion that to reduce injuries
American farmers need to move from raising cows to
breeding rabbits..."
Well, no damn thing! - thought the farmer, - we’ve never had one, from the sofa
didn’t get up, doesn’t know anything about our cows, but keeps trying with his advice,
his mother!
...
Then the farmer sees one of his cows lying down in the middle of the road.
He slows down the car and starts honking at the cow to get out of the way.
But she doesn’t even listen.
Then the farmer gets out of the car, approaches the cow from behind and gives it
good kick. She jumps up and kicks the farmer in the face with her hind hoof.
... An hour passes. The farmer, having come to his senses, feels his broken
bloody nose and black eye...
- Yes... Rabbits, their mother... These Russians are always really nothing until the end
They can’t tell.
CLITORA DIARY
January 30, 2006 How I hate those extended nails of hers. Again
hurt. Everything hurts.
February 3. This one was watching lesbian porn. I saw a lot of ours. That's it for them
It's good there... I came twice. Fine. The second time was out of envy.
February 5th. This one made a noise. Some drunk guy with two-day stubble
he breathed fumes on me for a long time, then scratched me all over with his cheeks and fell asleep
pressing it with his forehead. It never came to language. This one started crying and so did I.
I wanted to, but I can’t.
February 6. This one was looking at me in the bathroom mirror. She said that I
small. Bitch.
February 10. The neighbor downstairs is leaking again. This one bought some new ones
gaskets They smell like chamomile. I'm suffocating.
February 14. Wow! Wow! This girlfriend was given a vibrator. Seems
My personal life will finally begin. I'm shuddering with anticipation!
February 15. It's much better than her fingers with extended nails, but
certainly inferior to the language. Although this may be a matter of practice. Overall he
very cute, trembles so touchingly.. We agreed to chat
someday when Eta falls asleep.
February 20. How tired I am. Why can't I control myself?
Why am I completely dependent on her insatiable libido? Tired of cumming
with a wave of her hand. I want independence. I talked to my neighbor, she promised
help - work on vaginal orgasm, if it works, I'll take it
vacation.
February 23. This one boomed again. Much better this time. A LOT!!!
At first I thought that everything would go to the neighbor. But on the second run I was a little
not licked to death. I'm still dizzy.
February 25. I thought that I was essentially lucky. Take to
For example, my neighbor - they constantly shove something at her, I couldn’t stand it...
February 27. We visited the gynecologist. No attention to me. I'm starting slowly
hate your neighbor - why is all the attention only to her, although pleasure
more from me???
February 28. I'm still angry, I don't talk to my neighbor and I can't finish this one
I give.
March 1st. Ah, spring.. The mood is so romantic that while Eta was sleeping
I just finished out of some kind of existential delight. This one thinks
that it was all because she was dreaming about Brad Pitt. Stupid! Yes, I prefer Sean Penn
like.
March 3. In the morning I was shouting to each other in my heart with my distant neighbor. Him too
not sweet. His life in general is shit...
March 8. At a corporate party, the boss pushed this one into a corner in
toilet, rubbed me with his finger for a long time, all to no avail. Maybe I'm frigid? This
The truth is she still pretended that she had finished, but I can’t be a hypocrite!
March 9. The neighbor downstairs has another flood. How annoying this is. Is this really
will it last a lifetime? I started to scold her, but she called me names
I'm a nerd, but I have nothing to object to. Withdrew into himself.
March 10. Because of the neighbor's flood, Eta agreed to let the boss in
only to a distant neighbor. How indignant he was later. He doesn't like it
case. But is she really asking, she’s a damn selfish... And the boss -
asshole, doesn't pay any attention to me at all.
March 13. This one cried all day because of the breakup with her boss. And I'm glad.
In the evening we consoled ourselves with a vibrator. Feel better.
March 25. This one seems to be in love. I can feel it. They are only
They kiss, but everything inside me is already freezing. How nice it is.
March 30. Everything was!!! He is very attentive and sensitive, he did everything right,
I was already flushed with pleasure! I told my neighbor that at this rate
Cunnilingus will need to be renamed clitorilingus! Jealous of me.
Apparently, nothing comes of vaginal orgasm.
April 17. The progress is obvious. They don’t forget about me, neither does the neighbor
happy, says that This One managed to find some strange thing in her
point. She is optimistic about the prospects for vaginal orgasm. I
For some reason I am also in a positive mood. Apparently, when This one is happy, I
automatically good.
May 30. Dear Diary, I’m sorry I haven’t written for a long time. A month later at These
wedding. I don’t know what benefit this will do to me, but everyone is happy - including the neighbor
below, and a distant neighbor. I heard a rumor that internal changes are coming in
This one. The neighbor says that she will have a hard time. But we're all together
We hope for the best.
What else remains?...
And let it be my version, so what? 1526 words.
Hard day at work. Tear and throw. Kill. Just tear it apart. Stupid bastards. No strength.
- I'll come today! In the evening! Get ready!
- Yes. Bye.
- What the hell, fuck!!! And I hung up, what the hell?!!!
And continue to tear and throw, suppress and rule! To be a king, to be a god, to rule, to lead, to find fault, to seek compromises, to make deals, to survive this damn day!!
After work, run to the car and rush off to a remote area, so that, swearing with impatience in traffic jams, imagine how she will open the door in her stupid T-shirt, which is three sizes too big for her, a man’s and not his, and when he asks “ whose?”, she will grin at the corner of her mouth and remain silent, driving him to white heat! Imagine how he would press her against the wall and, tearing off this T-shirt, bite her neck, how she would make an imperturbable face, how her panties with kittens would fly into the wall.
Having overcome everything, he gets to her house, flies up to the 6th floor without an elevator, and impatiently presses the bell. But she is in no hurry, as always, she barely drags her feet.
And then, slowly, the door opens, and he no longer knows what he wants more: to fuck her or to fuck her, because a purple unicorn meets him on the threshold. She's wearing a plush suit with a bunch of buttons, a tail, a horn and a hood, completely covering her body, which now looks like a shapeless ball, and he doesn't even know how to approach it, and even suddenly went crazy.
-What the hell are you wearing? - he asks, menacingly and impatiently. -Where is your T-shirt? - he asks, not understanding.
She ignores his tone and doesn’t even change her face, however, as always:
- These are kigurumi - Japanese pajamas. It is used for costume performances and as home wear. A T-shirt under it, it’s freezing cold at home, I’m warming up,” she says, as if she were giving a lecture and mocking him at the same time.
- Isn’t it possible to do something more ordinary?!
“I like it,” she replies, meaning “fuck you.” - Let's go, I'll give you some tea.
And, without asking his opinion, he goes into the dim interior of the apartment, leaving front door open.
“Are you kidding me!!!” - he thinks and quickly goes inside. He tears off his outer clothing and shoes and rushes into the small, dark kitchen. She is sitting at a round table and reading a thick book, somewhere a kettle is slowly boiling. She ignores him and turns the pages with pale fingers. He can't stand it and may even let out a growl as he rips the book out of her hands and drags her away from the table. He continues to growl, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her towards the bedroom. She kicks him on the back and grumbles something, but he doesn’t care anymore. How can you not pay attention to him?! Everyone falls at his feet. And why did she stop him?! Who the hell knows!!!
He throws her on the bed, but carefully so as not to hurt herself, and orders:
- Take off your clothes!!! Otherwise I’ll undress myself and all that’s left is the unicorn’s legs and horns - his hands are already itching, and not only them.
“Fuck off,” she says in an indifferent tone. - Cold.
“I’ll warm you up,” he says. She looks at him skeptically. He gives her consent, sits down next to her and pulls the hood off her head. He kisses her greedily on the lips, clasping her neck with one hand, trying to sort out the buttons with the other. He listens with satisfaction to her quickened breathing and bites her lower lip. He can't get to her body. I want to touch her, but there is fur all around. Out of impatience, she tugs at her pajamas, tries to tear them, knowing that she will hiss “I myself” and slowly unfasten the buttons. But she, as always, does not act as he expects, she pushes his hands away, gets out of bed and, with a calm face, unfastens the buttons, and does it slowly, as if bored. He barely has the patience not to rip off that damn unicorn. But he waits because he wonders what she will do next. She unbuttons all the buttons completely and the unicorn falls in a crumpled heap at her feet. She is completely naked and she is not wearing any T-shirt, and he begins to guess about something, but the desire to possess overshadows everything for him, he no longer thinks about anything except the cherries of her nipples, standing out against her pale skin.
Well?.. - he hears her lazy and malicious voice. - Someone promised to warm me up?
He breaks the brakes... A moment later he is already fulfilling his plan: she is pressed against the wall and he digs into her neck. Then he licks her and feels how she moves away from him. He lifts himself from her neck and looks at her:
- Well?
- Let's go to bed... I don't want to do this - carry me.
He scoops her up into his arms again and sets her down on the bed.
“Come here,” she says, and there is something akin to tenderness in her indifferent voice, and her hands slide over his chest.
He grabs her fragile hands, pressing them to the bed, and begins to torment her breasts. Under his lips, her icy skin becomes hot like fire, he doesn’t need to look at her, he already knows that her pale cheeks are slightly flushed and that her plump lower lip is bitten almost until it bleeds, so as not to make a sound, so as not to show how nice she is. He wants to hear her moans, he wants to see that she likes him, that he is good. He bites her nipple and hears a quiet “mmm...”.
And he feels her claws scratching his palm. Her pale body beckons, you want to taste it entirely. He lets go of her hands, and they immediately begin carelessly, as if in doubt, stroking his body. These light touches leave a burning mark on him, his dick barely fits into his pants anymore, and it turns him on. He slowly presses kisses to the hollow under her ribs, her skin smells like cinnamon and tastes just as spicy. She trembles under his pressure and it’s even more pleasant than her taste. He moves lower and now his tongue travels over her round belly. She giggles under his touch and asks:
- Stop it, not the belly button, it’s unbearably ticklish.
He knows about this, because it’s not the first time they’ve been in bed, but he likes it so much when she asks. That's why he does it every time. He leaves her belly alone and carefully spreads her legs and touches her there:
“I’m really flattered by how much you want me, you’re already all wet there.”
“I’ll quickly switch if you rant and not get busy,” she says arrogantly.
He doesn’t keep her waiting, unbuttons his trousers, lowering them along with his underpants, and leans towards her.
- Hey, hero-lover, have you forgotten anything? Hold your horses.
He grins, because it’s hard to forget about her obsession with condoms, takes out a foil bag from his shirt pocket and declares:
- Put it on!
She calmly takes the condom from his hands and tears the wrapper with her sharp teeth. He takes it out of the bag and takes it more comfortably in his hand.
- Not like that! - he declares. - Dress it with your mouth.
“Monsieur knows a lot about perversion,” she mutters, but obeys and after a few minutes his penis plunges into latex and the moist warmth of her mouth. He exhales convulsively, she never ceases to surprise him, calmly doing things that he did not expect. She straightens up and, looking impudently into his face, says:
- Well, let's go? I'm starting to feel cold!
- It’s okay now you’ll be hot! - he answers confidently. He lowers her onto the bed, spreads her legs with his knee and bursts into her. It’s so tight and hot inside her, she smells of cinnamon, she wraps her icy legs around him, she scratches his back, she moans restrainedly, she’s everywhere, she’s with him. He moves sharply and impatiently in her, he does not kiss her, he practically bites her, does not allow her to move towards him, does not allow her to kiss him - her prerogative is only to respond, only to complement him.
But she doesn’t give up, she still sometimes seizes the initiative, for example, she suddenly bites his lower lip and begins to lead him into a kiss. And he likes this too, he likes their struggle and the fact that he always wins. The room is getting hotter, drops of sweat have already appeared on his forehead, the smell of cinnamon is getting stronger, she is breathing faster, her nails are no longer scratching his back, they are digging into it. He is also at the limit, he feels so sweet that it can’t be better, he wants to cum, but even more he wants to cum together. He reaches his hands to her nipples and twists them. She lets out an inarticulate moan and squeezes him...
And he flies away. The world disintegrates into fragments of a rainbow.
A few minutes later they lie next to each other and restore their breathing.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she says as if nothing had happened and disappears behind the door. Without waiting for an invitation, he follows her and enters the cramped shower stall.
“I didn’t invite you with me,” she mutters.
- I’m not coming to you, I’m going to the shower.
He stands under the warm streams and feels how the terrible morning drains from him along with the water. She leaves the booth early and immediately puts on a unicorn. Well, okay, now he finds it quite erotic. Without saying a word, they go to the kitchen and sit down to round table and drink tea from large ceramic mugs. He drinks tea and waits for her to ask. She takes her last sip. And as if reluctantly asks him:
- Well, tell me what happened?
And he tells, although he knows that you won’t get pity from her. But he also knows that the lilac unicorn is on his team. And if she doesn’t feel sorry for him, then she will completely tear everyone else apart...
And this makes him feel more comfortable than ever.
Admit it, dear readers, do you like chicken? With a golden brown crust, with baked apples... do you like it?
...is there?
Don’t rush to throw rotten tomatoes at me - this is not an idle question at all) The fact is that after studying the sites and forums of foreign and home-grown food bloggers, I came to the conclusion that for many cooks, chicken is not just one and a half kilograms of meat and bones, but also a whole an unplowed field for satisfying various base instincts.
Anecdote on the topic:
Paris. Evening. A hungry tourist enters a brothel by mistake. The head waiter approaches him:
- Monsieur wants a girl?
- No…
- Monsieur wants a boy?
- No…
- What does Monsieur want?
- I’d like some chicken...
- ABOUT! Monsieur knows a lot about perversions!
It seems to me that this is the principle that guides a good half of the chefs who donated their creations to today’s selection. And now - to the point, why bother...
First, take a look at this photo of smoked chicken...
To the inexperienced viewer, perhaps. It will seem that she is simply doing yoga in depth, but believe me, this is not so. They impaled the chicken and stuck a wooden awl into it... for better fixation.
Hard. There is no alternative.
But don’t think that twisting an unfortunate bird into a ram’s horn is the worst thing chefs can do. At the same time, she at least retains her birdlike appearance, and many of her sisters, due to misfortune, are not even given this.
You can't imagine how many perverted chefs are trying to accessible ways put a human face on a chicken!
Here she is - the lady on eggs - sitting cross-legged among salads and bowls of red caviar. Notice that they also dressed her in a headscarf to make it more beautiful. I’m silent, silent, silent about boobs in breadcrumbs... Someone is clearly missing something in their life.
Next comes the blast: attack of the clones! Five identical chickens nesting in vaguely overcooked garbage and, on occasion, laying quail eggs into this garbage. Well, tell me which ones they should carry, if they are authentic chicken eggs do they replace their heads?
So that the hen aunts would not be painfully bored of dying from a knife and fork in their female company, the good cooks sculpted a whole sculptural group called “KuroBards by the fire.” “Potatoes”-eggs are quietly “baking” in “coals”-chips, and bards are leisurely playing “My dear, forest sunshine...” on mandolins and cellos.
Damn sur...
Have you ever wondered what extraordinary thing to prepare for February 23? Now you will know for sure: a military rooster in an apple helmet with a star. And don't argue. Only this way and no other way. Set a reminder in your phone for the 22nd.
Just don’t forget that chickens are people too, and they won’t mind enjoying group gatherings in a hot tub before pleasing you. Well, do you feel sorry for water for chicks? You yourself know that it’s more pleasant to fry a washed chicken than a grimy one... Fry it in a frying pan, damn it, and not as you thought!
And here is the chicken, cooked almost to the point of being completely unusable. I re-tanned in the solarium in the “turbo grill” mode. Apparently, for this occasion he wears panties made of mayonnaise. To cover burns that are incompatible with life.
We also have whole recipe, obtained from a site under the modest name “yummy.com”. Greetings from Dr. Lector. Write: first you need to skin the poor bird, and then fill this skin with all sorts of junk to the very eyeballs, until the chicken looks like a mini-airship with wings.
By the way, I once had the opportunity to try such an airship performed by a certified cook with experience. I'll tell you honestly - absolutely inedible rubbish. I hope that at least the author of this dish did not kill himself in vain...
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The heroine of the next dish foresaw the impending star, and even made a timid attempt to leave the kitchen... if not entirely, then at least with just the legs: pabizhali-pabizhali!..
And, by the way, she was right, because her friend did not have time to escape, and this is what happened to her.
The flattened carcass was covered with all sorts of garbage, in which you can see dried fruits from the drunk compote, and orange peels... The apotheosis of mockery of a corpse, I think.
Now freeze in awe: before you is an adept of decay and hopelessness - a zombie rice snowman. He's already pulled the legs out of the asses of at least half a dozen chickens, and now he's staring at the eaters.
Run, guests, run!
The next dish also carries a deep meaning. It’s called “A Cookie in your Pocket or Bite it Slopingly!” Short and clear.
But let’s not look at parts of chicken bodies for too long; let’s return to whole chickens. Or roosters?
By the way, what kind of character do you think is in the next photo? Zigzag Macryak from Disney cartoon? And why does he need an umbrella and a hat made from half an orange? In my opinion, a tin foil hat would look more appropriate. Moreover, on the head of the cook. So that extraterrestrial civilizations finally stop whispering recipes for new masterpieces to him.
Pabammmm! Oil painting with meat, or rather chicken, “The lady lay down and asked.”
Have you already seen the mayonnaise bra? Admire the mayonnaise boobs with olives.
It seems to me that if the Angels of the Apocalypse, instead of the expected horses, ride on such chickens, the effect will be much more heartbreaking. Sinners voluntarily kill apsten, just not to see this.
Looking at the next chicken, you understand that she is also ready to follow their example - she has even raised her wings to break her own neck. Apparently, they carried her past the mirror, and she saw in it her brand new tangerine tits and parsley skirt. Let's remember the poor thing!
There are so many good girls
How many affectionate names
And I got caught with a nasty face
AND strange name"Anton" –
sang the classic.
And on Anton’s birthday he received a gift from his loving friends - sunny beach damn. There were no more gifts that day)
The plot, by the way, is extremely popular among the people. Here are some more chicks-from-wings for you.
And then oh... that’s just OOO! Even the lady in the picture had her hair standing on end, let alone the eaters!
Imagine - the waiter brings you a plate, and chicken wings are fucking in it...
I would experience Zen without leaving the table.
By the way, you know the expression “unclean misleader”? This is the permanent state of most chefs whose creations are included in today’s selection.
And, to make it clear what kind of unclean we are talking about - voila! Here he is, handsome, with horns, a snout and a bouquet of potato roses.
It was he who confused the two roosters in the next photo. No, I would also like to believe that the one below is a chicken, but she’s too bearded for a young lady...
If you think that the list of perversions in which a dead chicken can participate is exhausted, don’t flatter yourself.
Next photo I refuse to comment at all. We're freaking out in silence.
Chickens, as it turns out, can participate not only in gay parties, but also in BDSM practices, for example, tying up the victim...
If you click on the link under the photo, you will see something different. I didn’t bother dragging everything here...
12 years of fooling the church
Born in 1854 in Marseille, Leo Taxil, despite his upbringing in a Jesuit monastery, was distinguished by mischief and freethinking from childhood. When he was 19 years old, panic swept through the city. Everyone was talking about sharks ravaging local harbors, newspapers published terrible stories of fishermen miraculously escaping, swimmers abandoned the beaches. At the request of the municipality, the military sent an armed expedition, but found no traces of sharks. It turned out that the hysteria was created by our young hero, who falsified all the letters about sharks to newspapers.
Growing up, Taxil began to write a lot. His business card there were satirical anti-religious pamphlets. In 1879, he published the book “The Sacred Den,” in which he spoke about the crimes of the papacy over almost 19 centuries. It was followed by a series of other incriminating works. The clerics hated him. And suddenly Taxil declared repentance. He renounced his previous works and was readmitted to the Catholic Church. Moreover, he became a prominent religious activist. At that time the Church was at war with Freemasonry, and Taxil became one of the standard bearers of this war. In the books “The Devil in the 19th Century” and “The Antichrist, or the Origin of Freemasonry,” he accused the Freemasons of devil worship, unimaginable perversions, murders and the desire to seize world domination. The main source of information for the books was Mrs. Diana Vaughan, a repentant priestess of the Masonic lodge.
Taxil's anti-Masonic journalism caused wild delight among Catholics. Taxil was granted an audience with the Pope, who blessed him to fight the Freemasons. At the same time, some expressed doubts about the reliability of the sources in his works. Taxil promised to introduce them, as well as Mrs. Vaughan herself, at a press conference in April 1897. And at the press conference, which gathered huge amount Those present, Taxil stated that ... his 12-year service to the church was a hoax, that Diana Vaughan was an ordinary typist, that all the anti-Masonic texts were sucked out of thin air, and that all this time he himself remained a convinced atheist.
The scandal was colossal. The reputation of the Catholic Church was seriously damaged, and Taxil himself returned to anti-religious propaganda, publishing several books that were later held in high esteem in the Soviet Union. However, his anti-Masonic writings, outlining the foundations of the Masonic conspiracy theory, are also often quoted - and, as a rule, without understanding that these texts are just an intricate form of trolling.