Teen pink black stockings***
Twas the best of times (was it fuck) and the worst of times (yep). . .Sitting comfortably? Everyone leisurely submerging into a bottomless pit of debt and despair? Well then, Merry Christmas motherfuckers! =================== Hell, the world's gone to shit but still there exists light. Me. And naked nymphs next door on beaches. For more festive frolics be sure to check out the blood-soaked marvellous compilation vid I sent into the erotic clips section (if it gets posted). ===================== Let me be the hedge fund trustee of your soul's investment in peeping for I am truly the only unexperienced left. Yes, love the pretty staged pics the pro photographer with the multi nics and the paysite dopes you with every month but taste the Sandfly for the raw hum. ==================== This yuletide I send up a selection box of boxes - bits and chunks that slipped contris, gems that only graced my lens for one or two shots, and classical snatched snapshots. Not the ideal pixellation of the euro scammers but unspoiled original Sandfly opportunism. ============== I recommend this contri best accompanied by the sound of the greatest Christmas song ever performed - 'Jingle Bells' by Rockin' Dopsie and the Zydeco Twisters. Go listen and smile; it'll hit the blues. ======================= Wherever you are, whatever you be, however you is, have a good one. Let us head into '09 with vkate and recklessness; this year I shall go chase the superb milky whale and hopefully bring you the greatest honey ever seen on the beaches. Already in '07 (June) I served up the best strand contri ever caught and this coming season I'll hunt natural perfection (think Raquel Welch '67 and Sophia Loren) . I've seen but not snapped with the sun at my back. Our paths crossed last summer and I absorbed with my eyes but not the lens. I hope she still runs free and when we next meet I'll come back with shots to make your eyes bleed and your loins howl at the moon.==================== For now, may your God go with you and your bankers burn in hades. I'm off to murder a broker for the good of humanity then slaughter some turkeys, after that I'll toast the annual manifestation of metaphysical mythical entity made skin, pretend to hallucinate a fictional character of superhuman capability, purity, gregariousness and neverending generosity, then screw my way into the fresh year thru a rampant orgiastic welter of hot stiff female skin. Then I'm goin' to the darkland to talk in rhyme with my chaotic soul. . .