porn, super porn
a story keeps going as long as it's told
2004-07-30 | 2:23 p.m.

even in a minute! how full of shapes is fancy that it alone is highly fantastical

on the Polish, sweltering summer of my twelfth year, and my brother, Christopher, was eleven, we were living in Warsaw while our parents attended a conference or convention. Our hotel room was high up, and we were often left alone

this is something I remember with a mixture of mirth and guilt: on the Polish, sweltering summer of my twelfth year, and my brother, Christopher, was eleven, we found ourselves in a humid hotel in Warsaw while my parents were attending some conference or convention or something. We were very high up, and not allowed to watch television, so we observed the people below on the busy intersection, wiping the sweat and grime from their faces with hankerchiefs in leiu of air conditioning. we also had the biggest beach ball you ever saw that a friend of my father had given us the day before, when we went swimming in a lake in the woods (it was fun). we tossed it to each other, and bounced it off of the walls, and while we were playing somehow it ended up sailing out the window, through the heated air, and thunking itself in the intersection below us. several cars honked and, in a desperate attempt to avoid hitting it, a taxi driver swerved and hit another car. the beach ball popped with a deafening sound, and two men leaped out of their cars and started arguing heatedly. meanwhile, my brother and I were laughing as hard as we ever had, and I felt no remorse. but I do, now. on the Polish, sweltering summer of my twelfth year, and my brother, Christopher, was eleven, we were living in Warsaw while our parents attended a conference or convention. Our hotel room was high up, and we were often left on the Polish, sweltering summer of my twelfth year, and my brother, Christopher, was eleven, we were living in Warsaw while our parents attended a conference or convention. Our hotel room was high up, and we were often left on the Polish, sweltering summer of my twelfth year, and my brother, Christopher, was eleven, we were living in Warsaw while our parents attended a conference or convention. Our hotel room was high up, and we were often left (x oo)

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