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There's a strange resignation she feels - she wasn't even sure she'd be the jealous type - never thought she had that kind of possession in her. It's there, but it rears its furious head with no warning. For now, she's just left with a dull, faint soundtrack in her mind, some rhythm in her head that's sweeping distance between her and her friends. The dreads thwapping her in the face bring a funny wincing smirk, and she moves between them, arm around either one of their backs.

As close as they are, her mind is to those elsewhere thoughts and music. Mm, no, not now," she murmurs. When she came to a halt, there was still a respectable distance between the two. Eyes narrowed as she titled her head from the right to the left, eyeing him. WOULD HATE TO END UP SHOOTING YOU IN THE HEAD WITH IT INSTEAD OF CHOKING YOU WITH YER LARGE INTESTINE!

The red head tapped the body of the rifle on the side of his head, smiling brightly as that woman blocked his path. He continued to move forward without much regard for her and leaned forward when he arrived at the first bump - leaning forward as he tilted his head, "Oh my, you. Not in this weather! It rains.

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I want it to be raining men. Hand reached down and she unhooked the heavy chain from her thighband. Only to wrap the first couple of shackles around the knuckles of her right hand. He glanced down at the weapon in his right hand and shrugged his shoulders as he tossed the stock rifle into the water.

His hands moved to wrap around his back as he hopped over the first ridge and then continued to move toward toward Fenna with a large smile on his face, "I'm surprised you agreed to these terms, that I am.

We'll see - we really will. I don't think you'll be happy with the outcome, though. Would love to put your cock into the meatgrinder once I am done with you, too bad I have none here. One step after the other, though this just lasted for a moment. Fenna then took a sprint, swung the heavy rusty chain through the air and would attempt to hit him right against the face.

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He just smiled that large grin. For once, the red head didn't open his mouth. When Fenna came forward with the chain he actually ducked down and attempted to avoid the damage. Fenna would notice right away something off about his reflex speed. Judging by the speed which with he moved, he had some sort of augmentation in his knees. or at least his joints. Once the chain had moved out of his range, he backed up, hopefully, before she could continue to swing once more.

His right hand raised up and he tutted his finger at Fenna and winked. She probably thought he was an alien and the fact that he ducked, just fueled her anger more. Expression darkened instantly, low growl was released from her throat. The tree they were standing on, got more slippery by the rain and for a moment she nearly lost balance.

She jumped back though and ended up into a crouch, one hand placed in front of her while the other still had that chain. She stood up then, slowly and would indeed try to hit him again.

Laurick continued to back away from Fenna as she would likely chase him down the pipeline like a crazy woman spinning a chainlink. The red head glanced behind him as he hopped back over the various ridges, just taking enough care not to trip. The winds started to pick up and almost knock him off balance as his hair was now soaked from the rain.

He stopped and looked back toward Fenna to see exactly what she would do now. His balance was starting to wane with increase in the weather conditions - the pipes being incredibly slippery. Nope, not wearing a bra. She grunted when he moved back and instantly began to chase him. Run, hop, run, hop.

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Using the chain as if it were a lasso. Slicing through the air as she rush over to the man. Hit or not, she would then simply try to throw him off balance by jumping forwards in an attempt to push him down. And yes, would it work she'd go down too. Apparently he was good at dodging physical strikes. It was the combination that got him.

Fenna's double up with the takedown had been enough to nail him. Laurick's right foot mis-stepped after he dodged the chain and when she'd thrown her shoulder into his armored abdomen his whole body lost control and his right leg collapsed.

The red head's back collided with the pipeline and his radio bashed against the metal and splattered into the water beside them. The splash got into his right eye, and rolled down his cheek.

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He started to laugh. That same laugh that he always laughed as Fenna now had top position over him. She would now straddle him, eyes rolled back a moment and she released a low feral hiss. Anger, hate those were the feelings she was most familiar with and this man seemed to just know how to trigger her. With the chain still wrapped about her knuckles she tried to throw a right hook straight for his jaw since she was still on top right now. When she sat up and threw that right hook right to his face with the chain - it connected.

The red head's cheek made a dull thudding noise, and almost immediately started to turn red. But as she started to retract her fist he sat up. He sat up and looked straight into her eyes with that strange heterochromic gaze - the large smile on his lips - and winked at her. If she'd made another aggressive movement toward him, Laurick would attempt to wrap his arms underneath of her armpits and hook his hands together to pull her down toward the ground to stifle her movements the best that he could.

She was Fenna after all. And Fenna was angry. Lips twitched when her first connected, but this wasn't enough. She wanted blood. She wanted alot of blood. The fact that he was smiling at her, pissed her off more. Hand reached out for his shoulders, but felt his hands on her body then. She changed plans and now lunged forwards, attempting to ram her forehead against his nose.

He didn't stop Fenna from butting heads with him, his gaze was down at their legs though. Fenna would feel a shift between her knees as Laurick's abdomen region bucked up and his whole body weight shifted to his right side as he attempted to throw Fenna onto her back - it was more of a roll for him to get on top.

Her head connected with his with a loud thud and another crackle. Fenna hit hard, that was for sure. Laurick would have a black eye or two and a broken nose at the very least. Blood didn't come from his nostrils after that. But something escaped from his mouth, that laugh, that same damn laugh, "Kwa hoo hoo hoo! It worked partly, though she did managed to place a hand behind her on the pipeline to keep herself up half.

Her clothes were soaked, the heavy wind didn't made it easier at all. She would try to place her feet onto the rusty old surface quick, so she could push herself back to her feet. He may not have been the largest dog, but he was a vicious one when he got his way, and he might have had his position over Fenna at this point. The rain started to come down harder ontop of the two, the water around them splattering loudly.

The large grin was still on the red head's face as the lightning flashed in the background. Blood flowed freely from either side of his lips, as his cheek where she had hit him with the chain started to turn a violet hue.

But, she did not. The faintest scent of blood distracted her, if only for a second. And that was the exact moment the man's attempt to shove her back against the pipeline worked. She grunted, would not stay still. Feet tried to kick him while hands were clawing at his face, oh yes.

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she had some dam sharp nails. His full lips were grinning wide, blood running down either side of his mouth. His eyes were alight with a passion. When Fenna started to buck her legs he would move his legs to attempt to just siftle the movement by crushing his thighs to hers.

Her hands, he didn't bother to stop. Her nails would dig deeply into that already damage cheek and ripped the skin easily, blood almost squirting from the wound she had inflicted. His eyes were still locked on her face as he attempted to hold Fenna by the throat with his fleshy right hand, his left hand would slowly rear back as he if were measuring her. His cheeks however would be burning if he felt pain, instead, he bled - with the smile on his face. That odd bloody smile.

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This was a task she quickly gave up. She growled at him like a hungry wolf, nails would keep trying to rip more skin over as the crimson liquor now dribbled down her fingers as well. Head was pushed back then when she felt his hand wrapping about her delicate throat. Fingers would start to move up towards his eyes while she contiued to swear and scream at him. Spanish, english words. And none of them were actually sounding nice. When Fenna's fingers moved up to his eyes and started to push on the soft orbs - that was when Laurick finally struck out.

His right hand wrapped tightly and firmly around her delicate skin - his left mechanical hand hummed violently. His shoulder jerked and the closed metal fist would come toward Fenna.

If she hadn't moved. it would come again. and again. and again. Until she had either dodged it or it had put her out, Laurick's left hand would attempt to violently slam into that beautiful face and put her into a dream world for a time. The rain had started to kick up around them, it was now pouring and it was hard to see anything around them except for the silouhette of the rain that formed about their bodies.

She knew he couldn't choke her anyway. That fact made her grin, his blood streamed down her hand and small wrist and eyes seemed to brighten a bit.

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And while she was clawing at his face, his eyes and thought she had the victory of this one in her pocket. he threw his robo hand into the mix. Now, she -was- paying attention to that hand. One hand tried to remove his from her throat, desperatly tried to wriggle her body free as he hit her over and over.

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Cracks could be heard here and there, split lip. and within the next moments half of her face would change colors most likely. But the blood and her anger werent exactly a good combination. however she could not permit to frenzy here, with this scientist.

Fighting herself, fighting him. It would soon become too much. She hissed ferally, eyes stared right at him before they rolled back and her hand slowly slippe off his face. That wide bloody smile. His eyes practically alight with glee at this point. His grip on her throat grew tighter and tighter as he continued to strike her and strike her. Each hit illicited a much brighter response from Laurick's smile. It grew and grew with the amount of damage he had done to Fenna.

When her hands finally slipped off his face and presumably her body started to go limp - the grip on her throat subsided. He merely held her there as she went limp. The red head tilted his head and leaned in to look at her, slowly letting her neck go from his grip - and to leave her to slump in the water unconscious and bloodied.

He took in a long breath and let out another as his chest heaved now - showing the utter tiredness. He took a step away from Fenna and glanced down at the blood that now stained the dark metal of his arm.

He raised the knuckles up to his lips and ran his long blood stained tongue along the metal to remove it. The Doctor moved away from Fenna's body and stepped onto the swamp grass. He leaned over and wiped at his legs and then looked up at the sky as a rain drop hit him in the face. and many more plastered him and cleansed his face of his wounds. The red head just started to laugh.

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The storm, heavy rain. the fact that she looked like she had another close encounter with a truck, it didnt matter now. Mascara stains soon covered the pale, heavily bruised flesh. It was indeed not waterproof. Big chance the storm would blow her right into the sea. hopefully she woud wake up before sharks smelled the blood on her. Note: The ensuring story is explicit about sex while this image is not.

Consider yourself warned and do not read further if you do not like to read about sex. One thing I've enjoyed doing with Bella is going dancing. Sometimes, she likes to dress in black, and as she did for an early encounter of ours.

This was one of those times. I met her in front of Planet QoS and smiled to myself when I saw her. She was wearing her hair short, with dark eye makeup and sexy, dark lips.

Her dress was a tight, low-hanger, fitting her figure in such a way that made me swallow hard. Sexy stockings stopped below the hem of her dress, and her black high heels were shiny and spiked. She looked beautiful and sexy, and I felt underdressed.

I took her hand and led her into the club. The place was hopping, loud music, lots of people, but she leaned in close and told me she wasn't fond of the crowd and would only look at me. We got into the dancing pretty quickly amidst a throng of people. We danced very close together. After a time of touching each other furtively, she turned her back to me, grinding her firm and perfect ass into me, her back pressed into my chest. I leaned down and licked her ear, kissing her neck.

I slid my hand down to her belly, rubbing her, pulling her into me. I whispered loudly into her ear, "you are driving me crazy. She slid her hand around behind her and started rubbing my bulge in my pants. She leaned her head back and called back to me, "you want me now, Daddy, or do you want to wait until I make a puddle on the floor?

She turned to face me, pressing her breasts into my chest, hand lazily rubbing my thigh but sometimes finding its way to my stiffening cock swelling inside my pants. If it weren't for the throng of people all around us, I would have been nervous that she was being too obvious.

All the time.

I'll let you take me on the floor, right now," she said, and then she licked her lips and squeezed my cock through my pants. I slid my hand down to her ass, pulling her into me, and responded "You want to get fucked in front of all these people? Her eyes lit up and she replied, "Yes, Daddy I looked around.

I felt the heat between us and started to sweat. I caught sight of a deep chair on the edge of the dance floor. The dance floor - no I didn't think we could get away with that, but She seemed disappointed as I led her through the crowded dance floor to the chair. I settled into the chair with her in my lap and she pouted, "we can't fuck on the dance floor? I put my neck to her ear and softly nibbled, whispering loud and hot "you really make me want to break all the rules, don't you?

I found her panties and started to rub her slit through them. She was clearly quite wet already. I mouthed her ear, rubbing her slit through her panties and whispered loudly "make me want to fuck you regardless of how many people are standing right around us. She pushed my hand more firmly into her with her hand, moaning "Mmmmhmmm Dadddy, show them what they cant have I slipped my tongue into her ear and sucked the lobe, rubbing her slit until I could feel the moisture soak through.

I flipped her panties to one side and began to rub her lips, finding her to be wet enough that her lips moved easily. She closed her eyes and I slipped two fingers between her lips, then thrust them into her wet insides. Her face contorted and she threw her head back, loudly moaning "Fuck me, Daddy!

I quickly responded, sliding her down into the soft chair, rolling her skirt up to bare her wet pussy and askew panties. I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, my hard cock breathing in the hot air of the club.

I had no eyes on anyone around us, only eyes for the beautiful, sex-crazed chick in front of me. I spread open her legs and placed my cock at her entrance, her legs on either side of me. I felt the heat of her pussy as I wriggled it around her lips, bathing my cockhead in her juices.

Then I shoved it into her hard, growling "I'll take that pussy of yours! Her eyes flickered for a moment and then opened again, locking onto mine. She licked her lips and hissed, "take it, Daddy! I leaned over her and kissed her, grabbing her lip for a moment with my teeth, then thrusting my tongue into her mouth while my cock plunged time and time again into her tight wet hole.

She grabbed my head and pulled herself up to kiss and bite my neck, then screamed out in passion. She howled into my ear "fuck me fuck me hard and deep then cum in me so everyone knows I'm yours! I grabbed her legs and put them up over my shoulders.

Her walls closed in on my cock in this position and I grunted with each thrust. Her heels wobbled around my ears as I folded her in half, pumping, pounding, bouncing her into the chair.

The straps of her dress fell down and she wriggled her breasts free. One sight of them made me drool, panting, "Bella, you hot fuck I slammed in deep, cock throbbing. Her legs started to shake. I felt her pussy churning and that sent me over the top. I slammed in, hard, freezing inside her quaking pussy as my hot load emptied into her cumming hole. We sat there, dimly aware how many people had watched that display of passion.

We could only look into each other's eyes.

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Photo taken at Planet QoS. Add me www. The story "Drunken Muse" was audio recorded on a hidden voice recorder during the conversations about two decades ago. The story-teller didn't know or consent to the recording.

The audio tapes on compact cassettes were never used. The records were partially damaged and lost. I am so pumped to get back to painting as I return to the second year of the art school after a full year suspension.

Art studios are the huge L-shaped lofts with super tall ceilings 20 feet no less with the wall to wall windows so that sunlight illuminates the space from south and east side designed for the purpose so that one could paint there from morning till sunset.

In a studio there are classical gypsum sculptures, expensive copies of Venus de Milo, David, Laocoon and the others.

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In the art studio there stood the noses, eyes, lips, feet, and palms on the wood shelves. Sketching the gypsum body parts helps you to build the classic academic base on which stands the whole modern and contempo art. This sort of teaching is specific for the art schools that preserve the traditions they had been founded on. There is only few art schools like this and of this caliber left now. Could be that this is the only legendary school that continues to function as if nothing had changed in the world.

In the rest of the world with billions of some art classes nobody knows what does the old tradition of art school is for, its totally unfashionable. Studying classic art en. The smell of art is what defines the studio but not from human presence, something like an aroma reminiscent of the eastern market where smoke from hookaahs mix with the oil vapors, exotic fragrance from candles and spices.

The Art Studios were never renovated since the times they were built over years ago. The wood floors are saturated with art oils as if the floor is waxed with the organic oils from nuts, linen linseed oil, poppy seed oil, and so forth. Adding to the mix the varnishes used by painters pine wood varnish, Dammar varnish and others It makes this ART SMELL to be the most intoxicating and ever-lasting musk. The instance you enter the studio space you feel the belonging to a knighthood and the whole art history.

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You are the undivided part of those people who left their creation imprints. Super pumped up after the long break up with the arts after my full year of non-stop party marathons I had returned to the bohemian life style.

The only difference is that there is some meaning in the bohemian life style, something to create, to shape. Not just spend time doing sports and girls but something on a whole 'nother level only with the same sub text and by far more emotionally connected.

The bohemian I think is much more my thing, that fits me as a person. Maybe because my old man is the greatest sculptor. I returned into the world to kiss its ground. I like everything about it, the babeville and its fashion circus.

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Take me for example, I am chilling in a suit jacket. It was professionally hand-tailored out of a denim Pajamas with stripes and starry silk underlining. And over that an authentic LONG military Germany Waffen Elite Officer black Leather Coat from the WWII, only it is without a Swastika. About students attend the studies. The art school accepts only the best of best with few exception such as the kids of celebrity artists, writers and musicians and people who had real power in the city.

I wasn't enrolled for money or the A-lister parents, but for my talents. The Art specialty painting, drawing, sculpture teachers here are the world-wide recognized contemporary artists. In a matter of my working ethics these important artists would point at me as the example of how fast I work, how well I sketch in color, how I always choose the most unexpected and unusual angle for my composition and so on I never work on an academie live drawing of a model, live painting of a model the given eighty - ninety hours.

My whole process is about six - nine hours to fully complete the work so I get out of the studio for some action and fun. Still I am criticized SUPER harshly for cutting the classes. There is another side of the coin. It was about the time of my graduating year.

The art teachers actually always considered me to be the leading artist among all students. They would grade all my artworks high on my personal record I knew nothing about. Pushing to the limits of impossible. It will be revealed in the future when I got to befriend a secretary at the Dean's office. That was how the art school's system pushed the talented students to go further to open up their potential.

Willing or not but the doubts get in my head. The bad grades were corrupting my vision. Totally clueless that these bad grades in my case were used as "disciplinary measures" for my behavior of anarchy. These grades had nothing to do with my artworks.

And yet my best drawings and paintings are graded the lowest.

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At the same time the art professors are taking my works home. I always find empty walls where my works were displayed for the semester shows. Sooner or later the missing artworks got me enraged. My classmates tell me the back story on what REALLY had happened. All the art professors usually go the painting major's finals. So they just took my artworks right off the wall.

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Ever since I heard this back story I flaunt how IDGAF to even pick up my works with the bad grades after the finals end. Like a bunch of some doomsday looters in sight of an electronic store the art students same as the teachers vultured my artworks. Later some of my paintings and drawings were seen at the school's museum, especially the paintings.

In the art school the art teachers are the privileged kind who exhibit regularly. All are the accomplished artists with big names. Another thing about my artworks no longer mine and in someone else's possession is the story that involves someone with the top art rep being the art dynasty.

Even so it happed that the leading art professor nicknamed Molly for her annoying facial mole used my art stuff to have her son who studied same years as me, just never expelled, to apply to an art academy with the highest qualification requirements.

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Molly's son portfolio sucked. To get him qualified to apply she gave her son all of my artworks she collected. The juice was given to me by the reliable sources.

The story was concurred by the eye-witnesses the students who were applying to the same academy together with Molly's son. Some of these students knew my work by the style, special color palette and the brushwork. They all knew that Molly's son was using my artworks.

He only had to forge his signature and remove mine. It could explain why I was expelled three times for the chronic absence, for sabotaging the lectures - getting my classmates to leave the studio and go to the movies or to the beach.

I was sucked into work as if a drug addiction. I was penetrating deeper to the very core of creativity. Reading books, going to the museums, working in the field, working in the museums to copy masters.

I completely forgot all about life around me. Practically I was devoured and digested with my nails and hair by that devil called the academic art. It sucked out the leftovers of my soul. I stayed in the studio after the classes to work.

There were only few students like this, spiritually close to me. To them it was their life style since the day they had entered the art school unlike me. Whenever I'd get bored with art I'd quit working and just leave without asking permission.

Now as if something had hit me hard and I started to really work. Most art students here typically come from such backgrounds when they did their baby steps and studied in the children's secondary art school from an early age and tutored by art teachers at home. I had a tendency to take on a higher complexity udublintutorialcentre.comepared without the experience of any art school training the eight years on a daily basic with teachers and methodical practice.

As long as I remember myself I was drawing, during my school years, on the notebooks, with chalk on the asphalt, with stick on the sand. I did it subconsciously, not knowing what I was doing. Why did my brain moved into the direction of noticing those things that normal people should not be noticing? That the leaves on the trees are not at all green, but violet. The falling shadows from the street lights are not at all outlined by black, the contours are the absolute blue.

Stuff like this filled up my head so that there was no place left for just a thought about girls, more so even the thoughts to manipulate my body functions. For instance using the. I remember how I hallucinated during my work imagining that someone had come into my studio and I spoke to "the guest. Once I was walking on a street without any awareness. My mind was no longer in command of anything accept the obsession with my painting.

As I was pushing the limits of what was humanly possible in a matter of progress from the previous stage when I could draw and paint with intuitive results now I considered as totally armature waste of art materials.

My condition would be hard to describe since I could hardly remember what was it like during that madly intense period. I know that I was working non-stop and did make some major break through.

It worked but at the same time the progress turned its evil side, I wasn't able to stop even for a brief moment. Something happened to my otherwise incorruptible memory that I could only remember few things from that period.

And one of those things was my death walk through the city streets on a day I was supposed to disappear. avoiding the cars, for the first time I felt the fear of madness that can easily take my life.

It wasn't something I would fear if I was in my other life when loosing it would be quite an ordinary thing and not due to my lost mind. Whatever it was I survived with no chances to stay alive that day. I had more chances to live on when I was shot at execution style, when I was drowning in bad storm, climbing on a building like a cat, and on many others such occasions. Some guardian angel was looking over me as I came to the final moment of certain death, blind, deaf, disoriented and delusional.

As we finished with draperies, still life, gypsum figures we moved on to the nude. To draw and paint from the live sitter, male or female model. There comes an old fat hag to be posed before the artists. She will be POSING even during the breaks. There would be plenty of the cast shadow a type of shadow that is created on a formand a drop shadow below the image. This type of models was as unattractive as the fat ones.

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The art students without an eye for a drawing and technique produced their works of caricature quality. With the lost proportions the models looked like animals, skinny chickens or fat frogs. I x-rayed the flubs of fat to see the bones to connect them to muscles, to build a form. Getty Images; Illustration by Marisa Gertz for TIME. By Rachel Simmons. Sign up for Inside TIME. Be the first to see the new cover of TIME and get our most compelling stories delivered straight to your inbox.

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If you don't get the confirmation within 10 minutes, please check your spam folder. TIME Ideas hosts the world's leading voices, providing commentary on events in news, society, and culture.

  Just as magazines teach girls they have to be skinny to be considered attractive, porn teaches girls that to be sexy their genitals must look a certain way   Find 10 year old girl stock images in HD and millions of other royalty-free stock photos, illustrations and vectors in the Shutterstock collection. Thousands of new, k Followers, Following, 42 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from ??? YoungHeartBreak?? ? (@fuck_lil_cheek)42 posts


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