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Tight little cunny

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This is the view pretty much whichever direction you turn in south central alaska. First shot: www. This locomotive looks like it has seen some years.

This series was taken at the Portage train depot in Alaska. Funny Friday, something to tickle your funny bone.

This is taken from our house at the river and I heard this booze cruiser from a little way off and got my camera ready.

I liked the brooding sky and so the boat was a bonus. When it finally trundled past I saw that it was "cunny kla nie" and could not contain my giggles.

Either the person who named this boat has no linguistic skills or has a wicked sense of humour, I suspect the latter. It is a word play on the Afrikaans phrase "kan nie kla nie" which translated means "I can't complain".

If you don't know what I am talking about you can google cunny. I apologize if you are offended by this, just recording the moment.

When I go to the river again I am going to see if I can find the unicorn, it may well be hiding in the natural bush on the other side of the wetland.

Thank you all for your kindness this week, Chloe is a little better but still not well. Poor little mouse, fortunately she has the most sensible parents.

Explore Trending Events More More. Tags cunny. View all All Photos Tagged cunny. The Jamaican Doctor Bird by Anthony away just for the day.

Description of the Doctor Bird The doctor bird or swallow tail humming bird Trochilus Polytmus , is one of the most outstanding of the species of hummingbirds.

Paddle Boarding at lake.. A Study in Brown by Xavier J. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.

They are neat as a wallet, opening and closing on their coins, the quarters, the nickels, straight into the crapper.

Why shouldn't I pull down my pants and moon the executioner as well as paste raisins on my breasts? Why shouldn't I pull down my pants and show my little cunny to Tom and Albert?

They wee-wee funny. I wee-wee like a squaw. I have ink but no pen, still I dream that I can piss in God's eye.

I dream I'm a boy with a zipper. It's so practical, la de dah. The trouble with being a woman, Skeezix, is being a little girl in the first place.

Not all the books of the world will change that. I have swallowed an orange, being woman. You have swallowed a ruler, being man.

Yet waiting to die we are the same thing. Jehovah pleasures himself with his axe before we are both overthrown.

Skeezix, you are me. La de dah. You grow a beard but our drool is identical. Forgive us, Father, for we know not. Today is November 14th, I live in Weston, Mass.

The pond is waiting for its skin. The pond is waiting for December and its Novocain. Anne: They were tired.

Interrogator: One day is enough to perfect a man. Anne: I watered and fed the plant. He'll stitch up the gren, he'll fasten the bones down lest they fly away.

I am flying today. I am not tired today. I am a motor. I am cramming in the sugar. I am running up the hallways. I am squeezing out the milk.

I am dissecting the dictionary. I am God, la de dah. Peanut butter is the American food. We all eat it, being patriotic.

Dog is out fighting the dollars, rolling in a field of bucks. You've got it made if you take the wafer, take some wine, take some bucks, the green papery song of the office.

What a jello she could make with it, the fives, the tens, the twenties, all in a goo to feed the baby.

Andrew Jackson as an hors d'oeuvre, la de dah. I wish I were the U. Mint, turning it all out, turtle green and monk black.

Who's that at the podium in black and white, blurting into the mike? Is she spilling her guts? You bet. Otherwise they cough.

The day is slipping away, why am I out here, what do they want? I am sorrowful in November. Toot, toot, tootsy don't cry.

Toot, toot, tootsy good-bye. If you don't get a letter then you'll know I'm in jail. Remember that, Skeezix, our first song?

Who's thinking those things? She's out fighting the dollars. Milk is the American drink. Oh queens of sorrows, oh water lady, place me in your cup and pull over the clouds so no one can see.

She don't want no dollars. She done want a mama. The white of the white. Anne says: This is the rainy season. The kettle is whistling.

I must butter the toast. And give it jam too. My kitchen is a heart. I must feed it oxygen once in a while and mother the mother. Say she is five seven-and-a-half.

Say her hair is stick color. Say her eyes are chameleon. Would you put her in a sack and bury her, suck her down into the dumb dirt?

Some would. If not, time will. Dog, how much time you got left? Dog, when you gonna feel that cold nose? You better get straight with the Maker cuz it's coming, it's a coming!

The cup of coffee is growing and growing and they're gonna stick your little doll's head into it and your lungs a gonna get paid and your clothes a gonna melt.

Hear that, Ms. You of the songs, you of the classroom, you of the pocketa-pocketa, you hungry mother, you spleen baby! When I was 13, a man took me up to his apartment while his wife was out, gave me Pernod to drink and tried to manipulate me into giving him physical affection.

I worked for this man in the shop he ran below the apartment, and I had agreed to go upstairs with him after weeks of what can only have been careful grooming on his part, following a sustained effort on my part to achieve what I thought was the ideal body size.

I actually felt flattered and grateful that he thought I was attractive. This was shortly before he tiptoed his fingers up the back of my leg one day while I slapped his hand away in peals of laughter, my insides burning with the warm glow of approval.

It was definitely before he took me to the pub and plied me with snakebites an odious mixture of lager, cider and grenadine that was favoured by the teenagers freely allowed to drink at seaside pubs in early '90s England , my tongue slowly turning bright red as Roger talked to me about his "frigid" wife.

She had just had their second baby and was, according to Roger, no longer interested in sleeping with him. He told me about the sex workers he visited instead, and I listened sympathetically.

It felt good to be treated like an adult. To be trusted with such adult secrets, to be looked at with such adult eyes.

It was late afternoon when Roger invited me upstairs to try the Pernod. The summer season was drawing to a close and long, grey shadows were beginning to wrap themselves around his living room.

Up to now, Roger had been very careful to make me believe I was his equal and I had responded enthusiastically. But alone in his house, the power imbalance that had always existed between us revealed itself.

Everest, or maybe just lose a few pounds. We were both sitting on the sofa watching our favorite program on television when he suddenly kissed me on my cheek.

This disturbed me. He told me he is going to make me happy. The next thing I know, his hand was under my skirt. I felt a tickling sensation as I was completely unaware of his intentions.

He was my favorite uncle, how could I saw no to a fun game? As he explained to me the rules of the game, he sat on the floor, unwrapping a chocolate candy.

He lifted both my legs, placed them on his shoulders, removed my underwear and started to move closer. I wish my parents were there to hear my silent screams.

My parents really trusted him and often left my little brother and me alone with this human monster. As soon as my brother slept, my uncle said he will feed me chocolates.

He repeated what he had done to me earlier.. All night. I cried and begged him to let me go. I swallowed my tears and never stopped him.

Then he left for Delhi 2 days later.

Tight Little Cunny Video

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Poor little mouse, fortunately she has the most sensible parents. Explore Trending Events More More.

Tags cunny. View all All Photos Tagged cunny. The Jamaican Doctor Bird by Anthony away just for the day. Description of the Doctor Bird The doctor bird or swallow tail humming bird Trochilus Polytmus , is one of the most outstanding of the species of hummingbirds.

Paddle Boarding at lake.. A Study in Brown by Xavier J. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.

They are neat as a wallet, opening and closing on their coins, the quarters, the nickels, straight into the crapper.

Why shouldn't I pull down my pants and moon the executioner as well as paste raisins on my breasts? Why shouldn't I pull down my pants and show my little cunny to Tom and Albert?

They wee-wee funny. I wee-wee like a squaw. I have ink but no pen, still I dream that I can piss in God's eye. I dream I'm a boy with a zipper.

It's so practical, la de dah. The trouble with being a woman, Skeezix, is being a little girl in the first place. Not all the books of the world will change that.

I have swallowed an orange, being woman. You have swallowed a ruler, being man. Yet waiting to die we are the same thing. Jehovah pleasures himself with his axe before we are both overthrown.

Skeezix, you are me. La de dah. You grow a beard but our drool is identical. Forgive us, Father, for we know not. Today is November 14th, I live in Weston, Mass.

The pond is waiting for its skin. The pond is waiting for December and its Novocain. Anne: They were tired. Interrogator: One day is enough to perfect a man.

Anne: I watered and fed the plant. He'll stitch up the gren, he'll fasten the bones down lest they fly away.

I am flying today. I am not tired today. I am a motor. I am cramming in the sugar. I am running up the hallways. I am squeezing out the milk.

I am dissecting the dictionary. I am God, la de dah. Peanut butter is the American food. We all eat it, being patriotic. Dog is out fighting the dollars, rolling in a field of bucks.

You've got it made if you take the wafer, take some wine, take some bucks, the green papery song of the office. What a jello she could make with it, the fives, the tens, the twenties, all in a goo to feed the baby.

Andrew Jackson as an hors d'oeuvre, la de dah. I wish I were the U. Mint, turning it all out, turtle green and monk black. Who's that at the podium in black and white, blurting into the mike?

Is she spilling her guts? You bet. Otherwise they cough. The day is slipping away, why am I out here, what do they want? I am sorrowful in November.

Toot, toot, tootsy don't cry. Toot, toot, tootsy good-bye. If you don't get a letter then you'll know I'm in jail. Remember that, Skeezix, our first song?

Who's thinking those things? She's out fighting the dollars. Milk is the American drink. Oh queens of sorrows, oh water lady, place me in your cup and pull over the clouds so no one can see.

She don't want no dollars. She done want a mama. The white of the white. Anne says: This is the rainy season. The kettle is whistling.

I must butter the toast. And give it jam too. My kitchen is a heart. I must feed it oxygen once in a while and mother the mother.

Say she is five seven-and-a-half. Say her hair is stick color. Say her eyes are chameleon. Would you put her in a sack and bury her, suck her down into the dumb dirt?

Some would. If not, time will. Dog, how much time you got left? Dog, when you gonna feel that cold nose?

You better get straight with the Maker cuz it's coming, it's a coming! The cup of coffee is growing and growing and they're gonna stick your little doll's head into it and your lungs a gonna get paid and your clothes a gonna melt.

Hear that, Ms. You of the songs, you of the classroom, you of the pocketa-pocketa, you hungry mother, you spleen baby! Them angels gonna be cut down like wheat.

Them songs gonna be sliced with a razor. Them kitchens gonna get a boulder in the belly. Them phones gonna be torn out at the root. There's power in the Lord, baby, and he's gonna turn off the moon.

He's gonna nail you up in a closet and there'll be no more Atlantic, no more dreams, no more seeds. One noon as you walk out to the mailbox He'll snatch you up -- a wopman beside the road like a red mitten.

There's a sack over my head. I can't see. I'm blind. The sea collapses. The sun is a bone. Hi-ho the derry-o, we all fall down. If I were a fisherman I could comprehend.

My situation is not the only example of the dark tread that criss-crosses between adolescence and adulthood, but it's not that uncommon either.

How many girls are preyed on by older men because those men correctly identify how desperate they are to feel like they matter? There's a lot of resistance to feminism from people terrified of what a world with gender equality looks like, but one of the powerful things it does is reframe girlhood as something that exists even when there is no one else around to look at it.

It isn't just abusers who behave like this. It's present in the way men holler out of cars at girls who learn to plow forward, steely eyed and burning with shame.

It's in the way we learn to laugh at jokes that mock our very humanity, because Cool Girls don't get worked up over that stuff.

It's in the way angry women are told they just need a good dick, that fat women are an "it", that old women are sour and bitter. I have encountered too many people throughout my life who insist that no one loves women more than they do, even as they turn around and mock women for daring to view themselves as human.

These are the people who contribute to girls' feelings of worthlessness and dehumanisation. It is these people who make girls feel like they are worth hating.

And it is these people who girls will think of years later when they remember sitting in a living room at 13 years of age, clutching a drink they are too young to have as a man who is decades older than them tells them to be brave.

No one knows better than women what bravery looks like. Stop making us be brave and start supporting us to feel safe. My parents really trusted him and often left my little brother and me alone with this human monster.

As soon as my brother slept, my uncle said he will feed me chocolates. He repeated what he had done to me earlier..

All night. I cried and begged him to let me go. I swallowed my tears and never stopped him. Then he left for Delhi 2 days later.

I pretended to be normal. I never told my parents about him. As year passed, I somehow became normal. Then one day, when I was 14, that jerk came back to my life.

One afternoon, when I returned from school, he was sitting in my house. He asked me if I still remembered the game. I ignored him and started walking towards my brother's room.

He told me nobody is home. He pulled me towards himself and kissed my neck. When the doorbell rang, he asked me to go to the washroom.

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Tight Little Cunny Video

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