) It still hurts stars hot babes
asianthumbs, in, brunette babes, hot babes, e books & docs, visual art, beastality, buck kartalian, father daughter love, mystery, episode guide, film festival, sexual excitement, new york, biker babes, sexy brunette, sex (psychology), bbc news, authors, american, physical illness (psychiatric aspects), I used to spend hours squinting to see the stars illuminations, but they're too far away. There are three types of housing in Bank Top. Small Victorian houses, two rooms upstairs and two rooms downstairs, line the main street, while on the fringes of the stars village it's all modern boxes with garages and uniform front lawns. None of the people in these prestige developments talk to each other, but you can hear stars everything your neighbor's doing through the cardboard walls, apparently. Beneath these shiny new houses the foundations shift and grumble over defunct mine shafts-the last pit closed forty years ago-making Bank Top a sink village in every sense. Then there are the semi-detached duplexes built in the thirties as public housing, where dogs roam free and shit on the pavement with impunity. This is where we live. We bought our house in the boom of '84 (also Divorce Year), and my mother celebrated by having a Georgian front door fitted and mock leaded lights on the windows. The front storage room, upstairs which is my bedroom and minute, looks out over the Working Men's Club parking lot; some odd things go on there on a Saturday night, I can tell you.
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) It still hot babes hurts a bit. I didn't know it would hurt like that. I knew there'd be blood because I read somewhere about them hanging the bedsheets out of the hot babes window in olden days so that all and sundry could see the bride had been virgo intacta. I used an old T-shirt and rinsed it out afterward; if she asks, I'll tell my mother it was a nosebleed. I'm not a slut. It's just that there's not a lot to do around here. You can walk through Bank Top in hot babes fifteen minutes, a small dull village hunching along the ridge of a hill and sprawling down the sides in two big estates. From the highest point it affords panoramic views of industrial Lancashire: factories, warehouses, rows and rows of red-brick terraces and, on the horizon, the faint gray-green line of millstone-grit moorland. To the south there's the television mast where a German plane is supposed to have come down fifty years ago; to the north there's Blackpool Tower, just visible on the skyline.
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