Hourly Wage Of Nutritional Consultant

Story list

ONESHOT

"In two hundred meters you reach your goal."

P12 Slash
The declaration of love belongs to the happy ending. One knows. In Bill's personal love story but it was already there from the beginning and whether its happy ending is really happy, not even he knows himself


Everything is love for love

P12
when one is blind to all error. Normally you see them the infamous pink eye not because. Normally you have butterflies in my stomach. Normally you grinning like the last nest. Normally, one does not bitten off piece Tongue in the mouth.


Bills Bitch

P12 Slash
"If certain things about not losing his mind, has everything to lose none."


The other German

P6 Slash
Bill Kaulitz photographed by Karl Lagerfeld.


Fanartikel

P6
day I saw my brain at the closing sale because I had easy access.


stray dog Blond

P12
No glamor, no class, just an everyday mongrel.


Tokyo BG feat Bushido - After Show Party [The injury]

P18 Slash
"after-show party, I go out and fuck with Bill ... Oh really?


Tokyo BG feat. Bushido - The little flowers, they sleep [Triple X Remix]

P18 Slash
Bush actually wanted to just go to the countryside, but of course it has to rain and of course he does get wet - but not from the rain.


Traumtänzer

P6
Everywhere is better than here.

MULTIPLE

777 - Your Blood in my veins

P18 Slash 7 Oneshots the 7 Deadly Sins in 7 months. The sinner? Bill and Tom - who else?
Superbia Luxuria Ira Gula Avaritia Invidia Acedia

Clean Rust Cookie Sheet

"In two hundred meters you have reached your destination" - P12 - (Oneshot)

Title: "In two hundred meters you have reached your destination"
Author: unspoiled
Rating: P12
Warnings / Genre: Fluff ...?
Summary: The declaration of love belongs to the happy ending. One knows. In Bill's personal love story it was in early, though here and whether its happy ending is really happy, not even he knows himself
Disclaimer: include Messrs. K itself

You go to the middle of the road, But that's OK. There is not conductive strip and the last car before you come to meet about half an hour. The sun was hiding behind the misty autumn weather, it probably will rain soon. but never mind. You have forgotten your mp3 player and listen to radio have a bad program - no matter. According to the navigation unit you are in exactly twenty-three minutes at your target and you go too fast, because it draws up a formal forward. And because the speed blows away the doubts that these stupid doubts that you always have. That could have changed a bit. That is nothing like before. Yet you know perfectly well that nothing changes. The whole world is falling every day forward, but between you, everything remains the same. As God would have you equipped only with a stand-by button.

Nine months were you separated from him. Nine months, two days, seven hours and twenty minutes now. Being separated is the wrong word. You did not see. Heard you have it very well. On the phone, over Skype and via voicemail. You've each other inundated with SMS, sent each other pictures of each matter how trivial experience, mailboxes and zugespamt you all in all, despite the several thousand kilometers longer talk to each other than with all the local people together.

nine months and only nineteen minutes, you switch down a gear in the final turn it up almost pulled too far toward the ditch. Nineteen minutes. You solve your hands off the steering wheel and cling on tight again. The leather is very sticky with your wet fingers. On the radio they play for a change, for once something that can be called music, and you nod to the beat and lick you on the lips.

Fifty-five, fifty-six, seven, eight, neunundfünzig, eighteen minutes. And a tree there in the curve, damn it. You laugh you out of yourself, as you tear around the steering wheel. Like a novice driver who thinks he is the absolute Pro, only to stick to one fine morning, with its 3 Series on a wall. Maybe you should still keep to the speed limit. Tom will kill you if you kill yourself.

you into yourself grinning, grins at sixteen minutes it wider, and take driving seriously now. Eyes on the road, cars on the right track, switching instead of braking. In addition, you should fold it down the sun visor, as deep as the sun was in place. If they between the clouds come and you see nothing - Tom would freak out. Probably even throw a chair at you. Really funny how much you can amuse yourself with the idea, like a furious Tom starts with a chair on your flower-decked coffin. Too bad that you can not make up your mind whether you prefer a wooden or a glass coffin like. Would certainly have more style glass - fifteen minutes, but you are not sure if you all your long funerals mourners filled a deeply troubled hypocrites want to be stared at. On the other hand: dog shit light brown oak does not. If anything, even mahogany. Or rosewood? Can you do carpentry, rosewood coffins at all? And anyway, why not Italian marble. Could however be a bit difficult. And against massive stone Tom had a Lappish chair no chance.

Fourteen minutes. The radio host says to the next track and schmalzt while his colleague on the way full, when you ask yourself every time, if radio people get extra pain and suffering from the transmitter for this affection prostitution, or restricted only radio people have an inherently incestuous fringe group within which quadrupled the potential of the flat joke gene with each generation.

"Oh, thank you, Martin", breathed back colleague freely translated by "Fuck you, asshole" . What makes you automatically think of Hayden, whether you like it or not. The sweet Hayden with intriguing green eyes, you have insured his love so often that you'd most like him at the end puked at his feet. After her first landed in the bed waiting, he still has herumgedruckst. That he did not know what he should say so, but ...
You interrupted him, and meant, you certainly nothing you would imagine a number. He had been relieved. A week later, he had missed you. Snuggle want. Cuddling. Hug! An adult man with a college degree and good Manager position you had sent messages with smiley faces and expressions of love-have-expected, while serious, would you bring up all excited and squeak. You had long and hard at this affront and complained about Tom Tom had growled and swallowed - he had been busy with a piece of pizza - and had asked what you wanted then. "Fuck." "Hm Yes. Mach-circuit. Or whatever. "And in the end you have followed this advice, too. Not immediately, Hayden was to have been too good, but at some point up the inevitable Löffelchenversuche had to be very annoyed.

ten minutes. Sometimes it makes you worry that you almost by the venerable age forty-two Years still can claim no relationship. Other men of your age group had already been married twice and divorced and are celebrating with her at least ten years younger secretary their midlife crisis. And you? You had Onenightstand and affairs in every shape and color. You are more than once been "the Other" and you have up-flown kitsch in Overloaded fantasies with men whom you have actually not even shake his hand. You were the one who is two down and three tracks, and love confessions is usually "I think we should see about that any more" accepted. From your own site. Only once has someone left you and you have been beside yourself with anger.

nine minutes. Somehow stimulates up this whole non-relationship relationship crate so on much that you almost forget your anticipation for Tom. Tom would have to be somebody else than your brother and all was well. You would you by any stupid random hit in a coffee shop or maybe even in the first class have been sitting next to each other and you were now on the way to your husband, kiss you and pull into the bedroom would be if you had arrived. Maybe you would not even make it up the stairs. Eight minutes. You could have sex with someone you love. Apparently the supposed to be great.

"And let's go your evening with a special song that the Christian was wanted for his Mausi ", grins the moderator and you ask yourself the Mausi ago as a young, but honest housewife, at home is just at the ironing board and with delight almost a hole burns in Tom's office shirt. Sickening. You switched to test, state only when classical radio, then hit the hell and in the end again at Mausi and the special title.

eight minutes. Bemused, you cross-eyed at the screen and you must realize that you're lying now only a few km / h above the permitted speed, making the navigation at your time of arrival has been pushed back. With an irritated snort you switch the radio completely out and hit the accelerator. leaps around

When the display for seven minutes, you relax a bit. Tom waits certainly. He will make the dog very nervous and explain to them in the most beautiful baby accent that is equivalent to the dad. And when it rings in six minutes, Tom will not come down the stairs, the dogs because he is so excited about the crowd, barking and running high jump at the front door. And yet when he finally opens the door, the dogs will run up to the winds and at some point after five minutes, pick your Tom remains of the mat and hug you and pat on the back. You will go into the house and grin at you dumb and speak always start at the same time. But never mind, the dogs will be any kind of entertainment anyway too loud.

four minutes. "How is Hayden?" Tom will ask and you will come to him on the canvas, where he makes coffee, and push your hips against his. Tom is knowing growl and you will go drink coffee and walk with the dogs. You're going to tell all the news that you know by heart, and when you are back, you'll call your mother and tell her that you came home safely.

three minutes. You will cook and eat drink beer from the bottle. Later there will be chips and more beer and one each Dog instead of a sofa cover and you will long to hold until you can hardly speak for weariness. You're going to lean on Tom's shoulder and he will grin. He will whisper to you that you belong strongly to bed and break free after a long sleepy murmur of protest from his cushions your hand position, get up and pull you into his arms.

two minutes. You will want to fall asleep leaning prefer standing and on his chest. She is so warm and soft and somehow, despite the muscles rises and falls in the same cycle as yours. Tom will act as if he would seriously consider to take up the bedroom, and take you to laugh. On the way up you'll only go to Häflte itself. You will be "Thank you, darling," and he will whisper, "But more and yet, Mausi" say.

a minute. He will bring thee to your door and tell you good night like we do with young children. Then you will go to sleep, you in your bed, and he in his.

Create You Own Football Visors

All for love - P12 - (Oneshot)

Title: All out of love
Author: unspoiled
Rating: P12
Warnings / Genre: kitsch of the other variety
Summary: Love is when one is blind to all faults. Normally you see them the infamous rose-colored glasses is not due. Normally you have butterflies in my stomach. Normally you grinning like the last nest. Normally, one does not bitten off piece of tongue in the mouth.
Disclaimer: The Men K are themselves

is love if one is blind to all faults. Normally you see them the infamous pink eye not because. Normally you have butterflies in my stomach. Normally you grinning like the last nest. Normally, one does not bitten off piece of tongue in the mouth. But as you start to not. Forget it, I start again new:

When they were small and were new to the business, they have the last ten minutes before a promotional appearance each time, all standing close together. So close that they could hold hands if they were girls. But they were boys, brothers, to be exact, and brothers, it is enough to feel squeezed the shoulder of the other on its own. Time with more pressure, sometimes less, depending on who just moved like, but always there, always with the front of the front. They are now old hands and no longer small, but on the escalator of the children's way into the men's department. Are you emotionally Sixteen-year-old with unlimited pocket money and a lot of beautiful women. They are professionals, the entire procedure in the master bedroom, all day, and habit. You can which also each alone.

stop, no. Flash. The horror comes from the back, hundreds of thousands of horror movie producers can not be wrong. Sometimes it also lurks behind doors or under furniture, but it always comes out from behind. Whether one on the shoulder and grabs one still has time to turn around in panic, does not matter. It's always too late. Escape is futile, no matter where, not infrequently, you can not run away at all. Because one is caught between walls or walls of the bodies or bodies. Or because his legs simply fail in service. Or because the real terror has nothing to do with their own threat and we want to rush to the horror, but can not because everything comes together: walls, body, paralysis and the pain that one compresses the entire chest. Further in the text.

"Have there actually 'nen Pool?" George asked in the room. No one answers. The question is not whether the hotel has a pool. The question is whether the hotel is ready to block his pool for the next few hours for the majority of its guests. And if David is willing to organize this. "It is our money," they argue every time "you have no idea," he defended his never quite dropped babysitting role. "What you want to live their later times," he thinks to himself. "It's our money," they insist, and in the end they still get their way. They grow up. David still sometimes wish they would - if it - playing with money rather than to treat it as play money.

the way, what ever happens in horror movies, is the cracking of bones. The real breaking real bone. Since no one stands up and crumbles the Brathähnchenskelett from yesterday's dinner. They work with sound effects and hear what the audience is what he believes to bone cracking, because he knows only from television. Fresh bone marrow full of bursts with a lip-smacking, which can reproduce no carrot breaking the world ever will. And does not sound designer, that it is not a sound of many, but the only sound at all in a thick cotton air you can breathe impossible. It pinches crying her eyes when trying to locate it, and really must be seen not at all able to know that it's bad. Almost as flexible and one's own rib drill directly into the lungs. Where were we? Oh, and the pool.

"I'm tired of the pool," complains Bill. He leans on the other end of the room against the armrest of a sofa, his arms crossed, his mouth twisted into a bored pout. Tom did not even lift his head to see him over. Big guys, pros, we remember. And Bill does not have a buck on the discussions that would bring a pool Organization. Do not feel it, in this rigged lobby showcase we-are-so-great-room to wait for them to last for Van. As at the bus stop in Loitsche, really. He has no desire for his new bodyguard, who he deals always in the way, and when the still insists that he takes off his chain, he snaps at him. "I take up the hood," he snorts. "Leave me alone, asshole," he thinks. "Leave me all alone. You have no idea what that is. All this crap. All alone. You bugger off easy. "

can crush larynges you, you knew it? Some pressure on the right spot and that's it. Silent for ever. Silent now, but even if he had cried, we hardly heard him. Crying is the only sound around him, shouting from a hundred mouths, a hundred mouths, a hundred screaming. His eardrums threaten to burst from the force with which the blood roars in his head and he gasps for air, but there is nothing. Breathing does not get up, not even when he was killed, he did not know. Above him is alternately bright and glistening pitch dark, but maybe is not really about him above. Orientation, he has no more air can not, someone beats the inside of his skull with cotton wool. His legs begin to ache suddenly, every joint in the chaotic mess that his body must be something pulls and tears, but where, why and oxygen now. He fidgets, he must be, somewhere must be, the water surface, the air, he must appear only, appear only emerge out of the pool from the bodies from the blood, from the cotton. "Bill!" Yells someone, "Bill, I love you" and then they all scream, louder and louder, and he grins and thanks him and he is really trying to get away. Just breathe. Please.

"We can now," says David, and they start moving. The Fans rave and scream and they will be individually piloted to the van, and ducked as a fugitive. Before Tom einsteigt, he turns and sees George his jacket tightly around the body falls forward as proposed, everything goes. Behind him, Gustav, his head bowed low. Behind Bill with the new bodyguard. "I love you!" Scream the fans that he's on. The hood slipped from his head. A hand reaches for his chain.

Cost To Replace Shower Door Calgary

The other German - P6 - (Oneshot)

Title: The other German
Author: unspoiled
Rating: P6
Warnings / Genre: caption
Summary: Bill Kaulitz photographed by Karl Lagerfeld
Disclaimer: Kaulitz and Lagerfeld are among themselves
Comment: again incredibly timely contribution to Summer Challenge -.-



He arrives and is tired. His nose shines. The bangs are greasy. It smells like rain and sweat, but that's not bad. He is still young.

He is unsure whether to him or siezen name basis. He grins at her with his pearly whites white toothpaste and skin him the phrases around the ears, which are him running toward the road and following along. He is vulgar. But these two second pause before Karl these two centimeters, which he bends down to him, he graciously agreed. He is a child and he does grow up, what will be expected already.

lot. No, more. He has potential. He takes the patent leather cap with no fear, but with respect to the hand. He sweeps gently over the feathers on his face not a trace of arrogance. He is not like the ordinary boy, who carries the modification of a commercialized commercialized commercialized modification of a modification of New York, focusing considers trendy. He has no idea of art. He recognizes when he sees it.

His legs are so thin that they the contour have lost. Standing he is so it can accommodate only up to the hip. With legs like his is not one. You sit, flirts, bowing to pressure, if you have breasts. Man is not. He has a bum anyway. Moderately broad shoulders, muscles enough to dress up the bones, sehnigzarte hands, a long neck and narrow hips without waist. Unique wedge shape.

He was up to his neck in a silk shirt with turtle neck and allows him to lift his hands to the sides so that it extends across the chest. The sleeves are long, narrow and draped with pleats, side seam disappears even in the cool black color. A river that builds up between his shoulders before He glides silently down at him. No belt. The pants are just as black as the shirt, but the feel is quite another. The gloss is dull, the more points of light, the folds of soft. "Do not look at me," he says. "Look behind there. Imagine there is a mirror. "

He is a good model. He can straighten out like a doll and the more he gives him instructions, the more natural it looks. He poses en l'air those who rarely do anything else, and he is always very stealthy masculinity. He's not a boy, he is a boy, powdered and dressed in leather and silk. He is a chick with cockscomb and ancient simultaneously. Not awkward, not domineering not, shy and timid.
fashion, how to wear the chin. Pose is the art of letting anything look like anything. Twenty years of human Haute Couture, column-like upright, eyes wide open, and he has his thumb hooked invisibly through a belt loop. Freehand is not possible.

It leaves the lips gape, as he sat down must. Nothing but shadows between her legs, but bent the ankle. He balances on his heels as the catwalk girls if they want to numb their aching feet with pressure on the ball. He lets him take back the right elbow and the left forward until the hand over his thigh floats. An imaginary line between the fingertips. By the step. The same tendency in the shoulders, the feet, the cap and chain. Only the head to left, away from the center. "How much does a piece of butter?" He asked him and he relaxes the muscles for a moment, takes up one corner of his mouth and swallows.

"Did you enjoy it?" He asked afterward, and he nods and stands directly in front of him. He is warm, he breathes and his balance pulls him forward. Freshly moistened lips trying to smile and he presses his wet hand and can quickly release. Mr. Kaulitz has not yet understood that perfection can not access.

What To Wear To L.a. Theme Party

Tokyo BG feat Bushido - The little flowers, they sleep [Triplex Remix] - P18 - BillxTomxBushido - OS

Title: Tokyo BG feat. Bushido - The little flowers, they sleep [Triplex Remix]
Author: unspoiled
Rating: P18
Warnings / Genre: head movies. And then there's a smart.
Summary: Bush actually wanted to just go to the countryside, but of course it has to rain and of course he does get wet - but not from the rain.
Disclaimer: Messrs. K and the King himself are
Comment: for alraune315 , bexdebex and dream hunter \u0026lt;3

As Bush explain on the phone rt had, he would pick him up with a slightly less conspicuous car, Bill had been thinking of a small Mercedes. Or an Audi. Maybe a VW. He had thought of a classic silver gray paint, pine green conservative, or missing a car wash. Possibly even all together and an Opel, but he had not and Absolutely not thought of the car in which Bush actually antanzte. It dared to dance , or better.

"Have you suffered?" He snapped, barely, that he flung open the passenger door and angeglitzert his Saturday night date was bad.

Bush grinned broadly. "Hey, kid."

"That's a damned handicapped cart!"

"Well, we do not mean to be politically incorrect. It is still called "women", Small, and a sidewalk now. We have big plans. "

Bill snorted aghast. In every car he would have gone up in each van, all Peugeot and even a BMW 3 Series, but not in this. Not in a Smart. A goddamn smart black and white in the shoe box size, and with as much legroom as a pair of shackles. Bush not only had a wheel off, he already missed all axes.

"Das'n joke."

"Small, here." Bush knocked on the passenger seat.

"You do not think seriously."

"It pulls you, kid."

"You Fooled me, right? "

" Your neighbor has gasped the perfect view of all your backside if you like him so stretched in the air. "

Bill sat up and promptly struck his head on the car roof. How he hated small cars. And Smarts were not only small but also the ultimate spawn of hell, since women were allowed to go and harass the world with their Einparkkünsten.

"Does it hurt?", Asked Bush is concerned.

"Fuck you, okay?" Growled Bill, clasped awkwardly beside him and closed the door. He instantly felt like a sardine in a can and he could feel his hairline grow a walnut-sized lump. Wonderful. Women and parking - which they had so away.

Bush started the engine and put the car in first gear. "Hello, incidentally. And nice to see you again, "he said, leaned over to Bill and kissed him briefly on the cheek.

"Do not be so gay" it came back together with a defensive gesture.

"You're breaking my heart; Small. "

" I'm not small, first and second, no matter. "

" honey? "

"'re off, before I think about me again and go back up to Tom, will you? "Bill whispered in a sweet tone as everything else. "Tom I would never squeeze into such a part," he added reproachfully.

"Wait, how the earth was with guys and big trucks ...?" Bush chuckled and only turned just in time on the market one, before Bill was able to flee. "Stay seated and strapped to you, kid."

Bill swore through clenched teeth obeyed, however. He swore a second time when he had to find that it is impossible in its size, was slipping deeper into the seat and Bushdio to show the way he was really pissed off. Not even he could fold his arms decently without a spontaneous attack to get from claustrophobia. Whoever had had the idea for a woman's car, he was tarred, feathered with clothes and in the summer sales to the Grabbeltisch bound.

"Where are we going anyway?" Muttered Bill, after they had been silent for ten minutes amused or furious.

"surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"I know, babe. Really not your day today, huh? "

Bill swore the third time sound. If he would have got out again, he could go with Tom on their big, comfortable and, above all, especially for Women sit-designed couch, stuffing themselves with sweets and chips and watch a movie. If he had not even entered - or better yet, made when he would return again as soon as he had come this egg on wheels under his eyes, he would now also a headache, but would get at best a back massage. It was one but actually the big brother to make life difficult and spoil the date one, or because he had missed something?

"Do you at least as music?" He grumbled, as it unbearable still was.

Bush nods to the glove compartment and Bill opened it with narrowed eyes. He prayed that he would have something different than the usual range found in it, but no, today was definitely not his day.

"The there," he grumbled, and pushed the Rammstein album in Bushido's lap, while Eminem and two of Bushido's own CDs wegschloss again. He did nothing about it, but Rammstein was still better than Eminem and certainly better to have than to cut around the ears of Bush, as he intended to fuck some unspecified fags.

"We are almost there, "Bush tried to cheer him up, but Bill refused to face the grave head against the window and acted as if he had not heard. What a surprise and always should be that they had to be damn good, that he might shake Bush's hand more than ever again.

.:$$$:.

She was damn good. It was so damn good that Bill Bush only a few seconds staring mouth open before He found the language again. "Das'n joke," he croaked.

Bush smiled mildly. "You repeat yourself, kid."

"You dragged me out of here not really to get you with me to watch the sunset ."

"Yes."

"No. & ldquo ;

"Yes."

"You're a guy."

"And?"

"You have a girlfriend. Why do you do that not with that? "

Bushido clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Ruin of times not the atmosphere, kid. I wanted to be romantic. "

" If you "romantic" say, that sounds kind of dirty. "

" So yes, you should have no problem, "Bush grinned and hurried to get out. He walked around the car, fetched a blanket from the trunk and walked to the meadow, bordered to the parking lot. Just as he found the perfect spot had spread to the ceiling, he heard the car door slam and Bills Boots crunching on the gravel.

"Did you ever write smoked or something?" Bill called him and was exactly in front of the first tufts of grass available. "There are mosquitoes everywhere and bugs and worms and flies and ... hey, you know very well that I'm allergic!"

Bush calmly pulled out a can of bug spray the rolled-up blanket and waved it in Bill's direction. "Have thought of everything, babe. Have to sit down and just enjoy the stars. "

" I do not sit down in the dirt, "pimped Bill and folded his arms over his chest. The grass was almost knee high, and everywhere were growing and that greasy yellow dandelion flowers, which made absolutely indestructible stains on the clothes. Bush could not seriously believe he would leave his new jeans voluntarily mess with various plant juices, only to be eaten by a horde of murderous fun then mosquitoes.

"You must sit and not in the dirt, but on a nice, soft blanket," said Bush. "Or my lap; if you insist. "

" I sit down anywhere! "

" Good, then stay with you, "Bush sighed and made herself comfortable on the ceiling. Sometimes it could be really tiring to have to bother with Bills love of nature. Or Bill itself Sometimes Bill could really be a moody, self-indulgent, arrogant asshole, but on the other hand, it was exactly what Bush did to him. Especially the latter.

Bill remained standing, articulated the hip and so schmolllippig when he pose for a charity shoot for the destruction of all North German semi-cultural formations.
Now and then he was an unwilling squeaking by, but Bush ignored him. He lay stretched out on his back, had laid his head on his arms and found that Bill's whining is really quite harmoniously fitted in with the occasional chirping of crickets.
The best strategy to get at Bill was, quite simply, the long arm him starve to death. He was usually that is sooner rather than later, hungry, bored, horny or frozen and then he was usually quick to give in without a way that it looked like he would be after. By example, was attacked by a very nasty Killerschnake, the insect spray snapped the shutter and then fumbled by Bushido demanded fogging it, because His Majesty was able to risk it impossible to get a finger nail of his precious tear for such a thing as a vulgar can cap.

Bush came to his command, of course, humbly, grinning and chewy on the tongue, not something stupid like, "Are we happy now?" Or "Well, you see, kid" from the to give. Instead, he put on his most inscrutable poker face and waited patiently while Bill was crawling on the ceiling as a cat who turns in a circle three times before it rolls along. As Bill's head, finally just came to rest on his shoulder, he bit back again to comment, just pulled him closer to him and blinked in the deep red sky.
It was actually something romantic. The black trees all around, the songs of the last bird, Bills hand gently massaged his step ...

"Thou shalt gaze, the sun," he whispered, furtively as a tongue danced across his neck. Bill only increased the pressure on his center.

"The clouds look from, as they would burn. "snorting, a surly bite directly under his chin and immediately kiss to kiss it.

"The whole sky is on fire."

"You laberst shit," Bill grinned against his collarbone and ran his fingers under the waistband Bushido.

"Here? In the dirt? "Bush grinned amused twinkle back and regretted it immediately when Bill punched him in the side. Sometimes Bill just forgot that he was not a girl behind his fists and a lot more Force put behind them as a tables.

"Then just do not," snorted Bill and slid down as far from him as the ceiling allowed. He still had no desire to come into contact with the insidious grass.

"Actually," smiled, Bushido and folded his arms again in the neck, "I wanted to fuck not, they just lie here."

"And?" Hooked offended by Bill .

"not."

"Yes, yes, is clear."

"I'm just not a horny teen with overflowing hormones anymore," Bush excused himself unctuous and stretched as a precaution to the abdominal muscles, but the expected retort came. Instead, Bill suddenly catapulted into the vertical position with hunched shoulders and strode back to the car. Bush stifled a groan. "Ey was small, so not mean!" He cried, and sat down just in time enough to see how Bill showed him on the shoulder of the middle finger, opened the car door so violently, as He would dislocate the smart one arm and almost more brutal slammed behind him. Bush flinched involuntarily. Had the boy that dared with its S-class, he would have been stone dead on the spot. And he had the vague suspicion that the Bill was only too well aware.

"women," he shook his head and lay down again. As they sought laboriously from a picturesque field of flowers, organized the fluffy blanket, could get one, adapted from the perfect time for the colorful sunset and how it was a thanks? With rain!

Bush turned up his nose and irritated touched the wetness with the index finger. A second drop hit him in the chest as if to confirm, the next one on the left ear. No doubt, the clouds that were still burning on the horizon just now and were just about him, not about, but had a sneaky delete action on any romance under the stars before. Cursing Bush scrambled on, gathered up the blanket and still managed to smart before a real flood came down.

"Wow," Bill remarked dryly from the front passenger seat and stared at the windscreen, through which you could only see a wavy dark red stain. Bushido felt the absolute need to address a reinzuhaun, but wait, no, it was Bill that would only begin to howl. And if there was one, the Bush abtörnte really, it was the wailing women. Especially when he was with them trapped in a Smart. Especially when, after the romance had gone down the drain forever, maybe wanted to fuck quite banal.

"Sorry," he whispered, leaning over the control stick and rubbed his beard stubble on Bill's baby soft cheek. Bill dodged him growling, but only briefly, just to clarify that he actually was still angry, and Bushido Sorry whispered in his ear as he followed suit with his tongue, a sorry when he bit into the patch, took it between his teeth and his tongue quickly over the let light down slide.
Bills growl slid deeper into his throat, and he leaned further away from Bush, but the Smart was too small for him that he would thus be able to escape.

"I'm sorry," Bush cooed and gasped for what had been taken from him. Bill was one of choking, and Bush laughed silently, his apology repeated so siruptriefend files as possible and then suffocated his rustling with very delicate kisses on Bill's mouth. It took a while but eventually turned Bill's head, no driving around, like a wild animal that had been lurking for the right moment, and kissed him hard and demanding. "Sorry," Bush laughed, as far as he could and did bite readily. "Shut the door finally"

, Bill growled in his mouth before he withdrew as suddenly as he had gone on the offensive, his arms over his Breast folded and pressed against the window.

Bush rolled his eyes with a sigh, leaned back in his seat and pointed in my thoughts every single drop that smacked against the glass, her bare middle finger. So much for Gentlemanbehaviour. Next time he would Bill just chauffeured back with his Benz into a hotel and fuck him without any contortions classically on the bed. Maybe in the shower when the first round in the bed was run accident. But as a theater and now he had definitely taken off the last time. Except for a numb right leg had done absolutely nothing to and Bill now to soften was also completely pointless. Bill took time to spin out around him.
And Bill took his time. A lot of time. Bill had so much time that Bush began to hope it would stop raining in the interim, he could drape the ceiling in front of the car and Bill on the ceiling. At the same time it crept over the stupid feeling that neither Bill nor the seconds for the weather crept so slowly for him. He groaned in frustration. Why he did this really childish again and again?

Bill snorted and Bushido bit her tongue. He had surely said, hopefully not out loud. "Sorry," he cleared his throat to be safe, but Bill just squirmed in his seat and sat've got the rumbling roll in his throat ". Fuck I want"

Bushido straightened his shoulders and turned instantly the key in the ignition, but Bill was choking the engine with a snotty "Now!" off immediately.

"Where," asked Bush. He had to be slowly effort not to let his anger too much air. If Bill a broadside getting sprayed, he was obnoxious to the fury.

"How should I know?" Pampte Bill and tried on a new one to gain more leg room, but he could not straighten his knees, his legs still open, no matter how desperate he also back-and- herrutschte.

"I'm sorry, okay," Bush said sharply. Bill froze a few times, took a deep breath in and out and then saw him with the look that was all for Bush pitched alarm bells. He noticed as he mechanically shook his head, and watched with growing horror, as Bill observed on the lower lip and his eyes did sparkle challenging. Either the Smart shrunk or he just suffered an attack of spontaneous claustrophobia.

"If you seriously crying now, I deliver on the spot from at your brother and then you can either look for yourself another jerk or idiot," he tried to avoid the worst, sounding not half as menacing as he had intended. Not that he had seen Bill cry before but he definitely had the character corresponding to him mentally with this lousy whip stitch.

Bill hissed angrily. "Howl. Because of you. Dream on, asshole. "

Bushido's face twisted into a smile for a moment relieved, until he began again, and remembered that this was just a fight going on and no energetic reconciliation scene.

"What do you want from me then, huh?"

Bill was silent and sulked.

"Hey, you have been talking about me, kid."

"Take the rain away" mumbled, the boy in a tone that would have been mad at every girl sweet in a nearly two-meter man in Rock presentation but rather had unintentionally funny.

Bush raised his eyebrows and Bill avoided his eyes and slumped to the ground. "Go somewhere else," he added resignedly added. "I have no idea."

"Sorry," Bush said to the perceived fiftieth time, resisted the urge to put his hand on Bill's thigh and to press it conciliatory, but started the engine, switched the wipers on the highest level and went back on the road. Bill stared back into mine with an illegible Approximate and Bush introduced himself to die at any straw that smacked against the glass, had a cruel death. to pop with as much full tilt against a glass wall, which hurt more than condemned.

"I want to go home," sighed Bill, when they came to a quarter of an hour at the first traffic light, and Bush tried not be angry again. Bill was a nineteen year old brat with a difficult childhood, he could no feeling for it, how rude it was veers so with Bush, having so much trouble for him had made.

"Sure," Bush pressed between clenched teeth and that was the only word that they changed before the Smart in the still pouring rain in front of Bill's house came to a stop. Bill strapped off awkwardly, waiting obvious that Bush said something, but it did not even looked at. He cleared his throat to act first, then noisy, but also did not help. "You come up with yet?", He finally tried almost sheepishly.

"On some coffee or something?" Bush snapped, and regretted it deeply, as he realized in a moment that the Bellow had just invited him to his apartment. Bill never invited him to her home. He could not even pick up at the front door, he always had to wait downstairs in the car, even if Bill does not anyway at the agreed meeting place on neutral ground drove.

"If you want, then containing'll tell," muttered Bill, and opened the door.

"Sorry," said Bush, and struck his head against the steering wheel by a hair. When he was please to Softi Teddy became einwortigem with sound chip? "I mean, I do already. I was only just a little ... no matter. I would like. Very much. " He smiled at Bill wrong that rolled just as crooked grin with eyes.

"Well then, come," he said, grew out of the car - of course not without his long chain hooked to the belt, he had to losfummeln complicated and yet so soaking wet, was that he be Make-up running down her face - and ran to the house.

"You look like shit," Bush grinned as she stood in the elevator, and Bill is trying to wipe the black stripes on the cheeks, which made the whole thing worse. Bill only played Geesthacht, wiping his finger on the black level to fall.

"Is Tom there?" Bush said just before the apartment door. Not that he had been afraid of the terrier, God forbid. But to fuck one twin and pretend as if you were on a friendly basis with the other, another pair of shoes to fuck than a twin and the other was to go in his own territory on the bag. It was twisted, Bushido Tom felt somewhat obliged to ensure that he and Bill have had their fun.

"How should I know" Bill shrugged his shoulders and blared an ear drum shattering "Tom!" in the hall, no sooner had he digested.

"You and me hello", it was steamed back from the depths of the loft. "Oh great," Bush was like and push himself behind Bill in the hallway, the first noisily kicked the door shut and then gallantly similarly peppered his shoes in the corner. Bush was pulling off his jacket, as Tom in the usual baggy shirt and sweatpants with the door frame appeared that he had stolen from Bill's obviously wardrobe. Although she was not really tight, stuck in contrast to Tom's baggies but more or less Leggingleich to his legs and left him with his black cornrows scary female and look after his brother. Normally would have carried away the Bush to a smug remark, but the fact that he faced here, as it were the master of the house, it was a precaution to shut up.

"Hey man," he nodded to Tom instead. Tom just nodded and turned back almost to its twin: "Why Do you like this shit? "

" Can not help but also that I am related to you, "answered the nonchalant and bumped into Tom's shoulder as he past him down the hallway and strolled into the bathroom.

Bush bravely hung his jacket on the dressing room and felt like a little boy under the watchful eyes of the mother of the first girlfriend. Tom prized him for a short while, but seemed to have no great desire to a freestyle battle in passing, but also shuffled down the hall. "Here in," he called Bushido to the shoulder before he turned off to the living room. "Bill takes hours until it has restored itself."
Bush strolled after him hesitant and was pretty sure it was the rain came to worse.

"Get up there," said Tom did and plop into the hollow where he had apparently just looked up one of the films for which he was so diligent in his blog the big drum move. Whether the producer-funded him for the popcorn?

"Hm," Bush thanked him and sat on the couch, standing obliquely to the plasma screen.

male silence.

"want something to drink?" Tom asked in a tone that made it more than clear that here he only paid tribute to his upbringing toll.

"What have you got there?"

"Everything."

"Ah."

Tom looked at him expectantly and Bushido wondered how the hell could he noticed only now that Tom not only wore the wrong pants, but also the wrong Bandana - namely, none at all, making him look even more like Bill was just as at the front door. been

"Beer?" he said, as Tom was a questioning look annoyed stare, not observed so disinterested as it would be nice, as Tom got his butt up there and disappeared, apparently where the kitchen needed to be. And not reappeared. Just as Bush began to wonder whether the living room and kitchen were three miles or Tom made a detour on the way to the bathroom and make-up was launched to make it a bit more to get out of the concept, Tom came up with three bottles and a bowl of chips back.

Although he was still no eye shadow, but now that Bushido had sharpened sense for such niceties, he waddled on closer inspection are no longer so as usual, but was, well, more like Bill. Bush shook his head and drank his beer in a half empty train, before settling on the thanks. With an actual "thank you" instead of the respectful nod, which was placed under gangsters actually. Shit, where was the flood, when we needed it?

Tom drew only an eyebrow - as Bill, oh joy, again lounging on the couch and grabbed the Remote control. "Do not bother yet?"

"Ne. What is that? "Retorted Bush, gave himself a shake and moved on Tom's couch. Tom moved a little to the side, even though he had sat down at a distance, which facilitated Bush more than it should have it easier.

"Transformers 2," Tom informed him, pressed Play them and immediately crashed an explosion around the ears. Bush took a sip of beer and sat back. Alcohol and senseless destruction that was exactly what he needed.

It was actually an eternity until Bill reappeared. He grabbed the third beer from the coffee table had to choose between Tom and Bushido Bushido fall on the sofa and was about to raise him that he had taken as long as Bill turned his face and a broad "Sorry," grinned . Shit.

"What?" Asked Bill confused when he noticed the deep groove on Bushido's forehead.

"Nothing," said Bush quickly, "I see you so rarely without makeup. But looks sweet from. "

Tom gave a sarcastic grunt of himself, while Bill just grinned even wider, and Bush his gaze wander deep left. What he had not done, because Bill had apparently decided for the upscale bums look: simple, loose-fitting design T-shirt and sweat pants that looked suspiciously like the same model as Toms, only in a different color scheme, to socks and a ponytail. Really, either the two pulled on purpose or the great spirit up there felt like it today connect times too strong in the ass.

"war, I see no response kiss?" pouted Bushido, to dub his embarrassment as possible, and had really only thought of an innocent kiss on the cheek, but Bill did not take it to him to put in all the tricks of the tongue in the throat while half to climb on his lap.

"Tom," he hissed quietly to Bill, when did it get to over a minute mercifully breath, but again was not on his agenda. Whether this reference was because Bill did not participate in bright red and jumped embarrassed by his legs, but clung to his beard stubble, and warbled to his brother: "Do not bother yet?"

"You're a bitch, Bill," answered Tom, not taking his eyes off the Robotergemetzel on the screen.

"Oh," Bill stretched, stretched out his hand and tugged at one of Tom's pigtails. "Jealous?"

"Sure," Tom was back in front with bitter irony, dripping voice.

"Oh," Bill again, climbed down from Bushido and snuggled up to Tom's side. And stayed there. Explosion at Explosion rang through the room in Dolby Surround, Tom looked straight rigid, Bill made himself comfortable on his shoulder, and Bush seemed to himself as desirable as the mother who is bursting with juice and cookies to two teenagers scraped into the nursery. What was a completely false comparison, but that made things no better.

"I should then go again," he cleared his throat, flew for a time as any time machine parts through the air. And now after everything went wrong, it was now of course, Tom, who turned his head: "Why?"

"Uh ..." said Bush and congratulated himself silently to his hammer eloquence. But really, ey.

"Look after look around your guest," Tom turned to his brother and tried to shake him from his shoulder. Bill was only a murmur of indignant and remained where he was. Tom sighed and shrugged apologetically with his free shoulder. Is'n asshole "

" And a bitch. "

Tom laughed and gasped for breath in the next moment. The sloppy asshole he had clearly punched in the stomach.

"power he with me whatsoever, "Bush winked at him. "Criticism and Bill, this is so ne thing."

"You're telling me," sighed Tom, but his reply was in the hitherto most action-packed and therefore the loudest detonation and continued their exchange of words such an ending. So they focused again on the nonexistent plot, sipped their beer, and Bush realized he was slowly relaxed again. Bills comfortably curved back was indeed still a picture of which he had the feeling that it was too private, than that he should see it, but on the other hand he had been to quite a different Bill, much experienced more private situations and not made half as uptight as now. In fact, out of place so it was only his false modesty.

As the beer was all, Tom Bill pushed in a clear show of strength from his shoulder, draped him half lying on the sofa and stuffed a pillow under his head before he collected the empty bottles.

"Take just when he needs to hug back something," he whispered to Bush, as he had given to the bottle, and a pilgrimage to the fridge.

"You'll bring the rubber parts?" Bill called after him, but Tom did not answer. Bill grumbled visibly annoyed, turned on his back and squinted through half-closed eyelids of Bushido. "So either you give me a blow now and you tell him to go and get me my rubber parts."

"When have I ever blown one, little one?" Bush grinned.

"Well then hop", it came back dry. Bush shook his head and stood up.

"Where?"

"down the passage and turn left. And I want Coke. "

" spoiled we are not at all ", Bush said, could be the fingers point and left the room. Bills Directions was actually as simple as it correctly, that he found the kitchen right away. Tom just go with the half upper body in a cooling chamber, which probably corresponded to the modest Kaulitzschen ideas of a simple refrigerator.

"Bill wants to rubber parts and Coke," he informed him dutifully.

"And when he sends you," observed Tom, still with his head between cuts and children Professor Rhino .

"Looks like."

"So it do not mean to nothing," growled Tom, appeared with salami, mayonnaise and white bread in the arm and pushed back on all the refrigerator door with his foot, "but what a Fickunfall you've actually built before you came? "

" Toast is doing is not in the refrigerator, "said Bush perplexed. But not really because of the toasts, but more because of the fact that Tom spoke to him just like sex. Of course, they were both grown men and at least by himself, he could say for sure that he was very familiar with the flowers and bees, but it was not just any expression, whether it was about the bitch with Arschlochallüre who waited in the living room on their rubber parts and, incidentally, was Tom's little brother. Since you asked, but not by the way the sandwich-making, such as the number would have been so. And by the way they were not really bread in the refrigerator.

"Huh?" Laughs Tom and smeared a thick layer of disgusting mayonnaise on two slices of toast. Apparently they ate toast in the house Kaulitz not toasted, but well chilled. "Driving time not from. Bill is just so on it sucks, if he either does not have enough cameras in front of the mouth and not getting enough exercise. Shoot we had last weekend. So what? "

Bush leaned against the door frame, staring Tom just a few moments. Underestimated. He had underestimated Tom, all the time. He had thought that Tom would be a great hysterical brother, he would have liked to tuck in one, it did not Bill sake, and he therefore went with a clenched fist after getting out of the path. Instead, in a way that Tom expected that he worried well Bill, would he can never dream. In fact, he could not believe it even now.

"How did you know that I am building accidents?" He countered eventually delayed abundant, but with a salacious grin.

Tom presented a response rather than a plastic box with jelly on the bistro table and went back to the task of his sandwich in a kind of sausage and bread Mayosuppe deposit transform.

"You're leaning up so very far from the window, kid."

Tom a bottle of Coke stood next to the jelly babies.

"So if you really want the dirty details: your brother was fine and to the whole thing has fallen into the water."

Tom bit into his sandwich and nodded, chewing. Bush watched angwidert half, half fascinated as the mayonnaise dripped.

"You are well on dates with the Kloschlüssel."

What Tom did then, was the summit. At least for Bush. He put a hand to the Mayotube, a large dollop pushed his plate, dipped into his index finger and put it with the whole tablespoon of mayonnaise out in the mouth.

Game over.

Bushido's first impulse was to respond to the invitation and Tom to the small table left. Bushido's second impulse was to tear Cola and rubber parts under the nail and thus to escape Bill. Bushido's third impulse was not really a pulse, but a full-body paralysis, stand him petrified and rigid, as was Tom's cheeks were hollow and white mayonnaise residues accumulated in his mouth.

"Tom, you pig," Bill's voice suddenly tore him from his trance. Before he could turn around right after him, Bill has walked past him in the kitchen, grabbed Tom's arm and pulled his finger from his mouth. "This is disgusting. You will only be bad again. "

" He's pretty desperate because he has gotten lately nothing more, "Bill turned to apologize to Bush, wiped the rest of Tom's mayonnaise dish and licked his hand, fingers.

"Moah are now that your whole bacteria turn!" Said Tom echauffierte his plate and looked like a very hairy spider.

"Since when do you need to eat a plate?"

"It's a matter of principle, okay?"

"Stop the edge, Tom."

"Is always so to you?" Needed

Bushido few seconds before it registered that Tom had just talked to him. And he needed more seconds before he nodded at first, then shook his head and then nodded.

"What do you mean forever? Just because you have to constantly excite you in your stupid germ phobia, that does "

" Bill, do us a favor and go down you get one, "Tom interrupted the angry hissing of his Brother.

Bill snorted indignantly one last time, turns on his heels and rushed out of the kitchen.

"You may like to go and help him," said Tom, as he saw Bushido's plate-sized eyes.
Bush shook his head, went to the fridge, took a bottle of beer and shuffled back into the living room, only to find that instead of meaningless explosions already ran the closing credits. He sat still on the couch, threw down his beer and tried not to think about exactly what had happened in the last five minutes.

appeared after a while Tom also with a beer in his hand, sat down beside him, took two sips and asked if he wanted to know where Bill was a carpenter.

"Did you just flirted with me?" Bush asked back and was glad he had to hold his beer.

Tom leaned back and looked at Bush in the corner of his eye. "You never come that we are twins, huh?"

"No, really?", Tried to joke about Bush, but he did not really succeed. He was still too busy trying to understand what it all actually meant. Tom could appear just as attractive to him act as his brother if he's not had to act like the mindless player. Tom seemed obvious nor to the sex of their partner to worry about how Bill, what you suspect but could not really surprising it again was not. Tom was also clearly interested in him specifically whether generally or in a number really play any role. The interpretations were therefore as follows:

first Everything chance. Things were as they were and, like, just now happened again. They were just all just men.

second Bill and Tom had planned the whole thing neatly and he was Bill's affectation in the car went promptly into the trap, where it could be
2.1, that Tom's interest was real or was he
2.2 fooled by line and thread of the two

3.Er actually had more than two beers drunk and hallucinating.

These points in turn led to several possible approaches:

A, He left the loft and went home, either with or without a prior reinzuhauen

Tom B, Tom, he fucked her, either in the presence or Bills absence

C, He sat here, drank his beer and waited that he woke up

Bush chose D, the million, leaned back his hand and waited for what was to come there. And they came very early, because Tom took him without hesitation in the crotch, and squeezed almost determined and declared in perfect Businesston: "I'll blow one if you like Bill a blowjob .

"You blow my kids never," said Bush back dry and thought better not to just to find out how much exactly Tom knew what he was so driven anything with Bill or not driven had. He would have to actually think that it would eventually end this way. Damn, these two lunatics had managed to captivate him to a bed and bring him half with their peep out of his mind. And he did not fool his remaining brain cells used to, once and for all a wide berth to beat them, but allow only his second brain to speak a few floors lower than him on a Bill year later declared not necessarily wordy had that was not meant that way. And now he sat here with the Bill in the blend Cornrow-Edition down to hard to hide it, can top too soft to get too serious can defend, and completely without any prospect of early relief because Tom seemed to his childish blackmail attempt seriously to actually think. Bush was not necessarily the nice uncle next door, but even he knew that small children were the toughest negotiator, you could imagine: relentless, emotionally unstable and a twin with a mom respectively in store, demolition of one's head when the little one even close to weep. What meant so much as that Bush would go six inches shorter now through life for yield in this case was clearly not in it. He was King Bushido, he was man enough to make a pink MyPony stallion to fuck with Glitter French Nail mane and hooves in the ass, yet still even more testosterone spray together as the whole aggro shop, but weaknesses dances he did not sucked. Not even when their owners were so feminine, that one would expect anything between their legs.

"Forget it.

.:$$$:.

Tom Bill moved directly in front of him and pressed him so on the sofa that he was kneeling upright on the knee on the left and right of Bushido's thighs, his step, no hand's breadth in front of his face.

"Forget it, Bush repeatedly emphasized, but Tom simply ignored him and pulled Bill's pants and boxers down so far that the main thing was palpable. By Bill ran a body expectant showers.

"Are you deaf, man?" Bush wanted to growl, but was distracted from the fact that Tom touched his cheek at a time and he had to blink violently, as Toms lips closed just as suddenly to his brother. For a moment overcame him to the paranoid imagination, the next moment will host an overzealous leap behind the curtain and his "Candid Camera" yell in his ear. He tried to Tom squint past the window, but who took his entire field of vision in right and started it all, even at the exact same way as Bill to be smacking softly. And in turn, had nothing better to do than act to bite his lower lip, to moan and to haunt a hand on Tom's head. And he had just cuddle scene felt to be too private. Residual brain ade, it was nice to you.

"boys," croaked Bushido, but it did not help. Tom licked and nibbled and somehow came closer and closer until his lips were suddenly on Bushido and somewhere there was also Bill, because Tom was so still deal with it, and even as Toms' Ü ; bernimm easy if he wants to hug again, "echoed in his head, pushed glattsamtig something hot in his mouth, he had to have some time open, and Tom as his hot breath tickled the ear and pulled something his belt and he thought that thinking now definitely no point did what was to be a completely absurd idea, but who cares. To his throbbing hardness finally joined a hand that knew what they had to touch a man, and he whimpered Bill incomprehensible insult. Bush missed his pride unpaid leave and kicked out the door and swallowed Bill one step further.

The same slender hand, which he skillfully between her legs scratched, rhythmically drove over his head, scratched on his short stroked his hair, the nails on his head, stroked over his temples, his twitching in his mouth. For a moment he let go of Bill, overcame the tongue around his thumb and felt his hoarse panting in tiny electric shocks through every square inch of skin, sweat-wet grass than to suck it and suck began. Bills whipped aroma roared in his ears and he thought his whining just taste so like his trembling hips, the hardness, the bitterness and the delicate soft skin, which he took in between the teeth, the texture marveled at the stubble and the pressure of which feels them.

He felt as man, the saw for the first time: groping, even though he knew where everything was. Surprised, curious and anxious at the same time, stormy and reserved. He kept his eyes shut, but to get a sense of themselves to be swept at least not completely in the avalanche, which he himself lostrat and with the same, if not even greater violence on him Back to return ckrollte. The less he thought the more he licked, bit, kissed her, the stronger vibrating Bill, the more violent swallowed Tom, the louder buzzed Bushido, the more often cut Bill off his air, the higher beat the flames.

When Bush finally opened his eyes, he opened it not - he tore it open. Far and without blinking, he stared upward, unfokusiert his eyes, because every detail equally loud screaming for attention. Bill gasped maunend above him, her lips slightly open, his tongue between his teeth once, twice in the mouth, the promise of a metallic Glitzerns between, the black eyes like needles on the body pinned, in which he Bushido's mouth turned up, his head pressed against the back of the sofa, befell, gasping for breath, befell, again and again. His heavy braids on his shoulders, clapped as the scourge of the sinful monks, salty and sweaty, but the blood was missing.

Although Bushido's head was filled to bursting with eye Bills, Bills breath, Bill, even in the most literal sense, in hindsight but it was aware for the first time that Bill is not about why the same media virgin girls and wet dream could be, because he was feeling particularly virgin or young girl. Bill was a beast. Not even a noble savage, but a drive-controlled, untamed animals, clever enough to daytime lazy to lie in the sun, and nothing but muscle, energy and sex if the opportunity presented itself. Animal table was the only word with the Bills loss distorted features were described, the manner in which he bared his teeth, without blinking, without hesitation, and finally the perfect deadly silence before start the decisive leap. His heat was running on Bushido's face like fresh blood.

first loosened as the iron grip on his neck himself, Bush remarked that he had been detained. Anger flashed through his body, but he jumped up, but sat very still, her lips pressed tightly together, eyes closed. He tried to taste it, as it touched his mouth to feel anything, as it dripped from his chin. Tough mucus, disgusting hot and sticky. His fists were trembling with desire to drill into the jaw bone, nasal bones to break and embark on doors. He was probably more than the self-satisfied expression Bills beat Visage, Toms format spiteful grin again, but above all he wanted to even miss one for his incredible stupidity to just sit, his weakness is every self-respecting to be sucked out, and to top it with shame, what a picture he had to give up now. He did not even know if it was worse that as a female or as a manly man like Bill had taken away his face. The fact was that he literally swam in his own humiliation.

was a fact that went something wet on his face. He growled, angry, and careless, so that it languished for his not so tightly pressed lips and choke him. He squirmed, spat and would certainly have puked on the carpet, if that does not suddenly Wet again would have been there, this time in his mouth, cool and with the familiar taste of beer. Bush kissed back not, as Tom licked Bill's legacy from his tongue first, then cheeks, chin and temples, and last flickering of his eyelids. Bush kissed return until the final treacherous trail was gone, and he kissed Tom with such devotion as if to bring down Bill's world. Tom gave him the course, the leadership that is found only in men who know very well that they just the leaders are good. He moaned appreciatively in his mouth, as Bush overcame a handful of cornrows to his fingers and Tom's head slowly moved to the side, his lips always had skin on Tom, his eyes always on Tom's brother.

Bill moved to the second bed, put on a leg, the other stretched out, his masculinity consumed soft and wet between the legs. He stretched his bare belly under Bushido's lidless eyes and let the leg tip finally tightened abruptly to the side.

Bush understood the challenge only too clearly. He cut his teeth in Tom's shoulders, let strip the Quakers protesting his little ears and put his hands on the buttocks determined in his lap. Bill did not even wink at him a favor. With a silent roar in his throat Bushido Tom moved jerkily in itself, so that their shoulders were to be painful with each other and collided head on Tom's shoulder facing away from the Bill of Bushido. Tom Butt, he had moved with the same movement on his knees, just so far forward that Tom is not herunterruschte. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants and pulled them down. Tom did not move, defended himself, nor that he helped. He merely expressed his hot Cheek against the cool sofa and waited. And not very long. wandered

As Bushido eye for a moment about Tom back to his groping hands, tore him Bill prey with the same fierce precision of the poor like Tarzan, swinging from the past Liane , and disappeared with it perhaps not quite as smoothly as the jungle king of the jungle or the living room. And the Monkeys all laughed at Bush.

He buried his head in his hands and breathed deeply in and out. And a. And off. And not just freak out. They had it's only done again. They had to get him to take only the second time on the eggs and shown to rotten. They had packed his pride with their manicured fingers girl, shot through the meat grinder and he threw the pitiful remains of the feet like a dog. Bill had his ears scratched, Tom had made him the mouth watery and he wagged his tail. In and out, very slowly. A. And Off.

was after a while he got up and paced slowly up and down the couch. He could look for them. He could break them both the nose or something else more below. The only question was to find what he would do if he was looking for. Siegesgegacker shrill? Sibling love? Mayo mud wrestling? In any case, he would undoubtedly be bad and he might as well stay where he was in the living room and vomit on the carpet.

Or else he went. Just like that. Take it easy. In and out and out.

.:$$$:. explained

As Bush by SMS was that he would pick him this time with a reasonable car, Bill had thought of conventional Benz. Or an Escalade, so long as Bush fine Allusions was capable. He had thought to wide leather seats and polished mahogany steering wheels on shiny paint and enough horsepower to push it deep on the highway in the cushions.

"I'm off," he shouted into the apartment while he slipped into his jacket and pulled the door at the same time with Tom's absent, "Okay, a lot of fun" behind to. In the elevator he impatiently jiggled his leg and corrected his make-up of ninety-nine to one hundred two percent perfection. Since its last run date was slightly off course, he had Bush not been seen since. In fact, he had not even phoned him. The more tense he was sure Bush would like to confront him after he had slipped quietly out of the apartment when it was Bill become colorful and he had cashed Tom. The fact that Bush was angry, he did not believe. Offended you. Angetörnt - questionable. Time auszuheulen around for nuts, but he had had all the time, most probably was, therefore, that he is not even mentioned the whole thing.

Bill stroked his hair one last time before he left elevator and buildings looked vorfreude grinning after Bushido Car around and froze Fußgitter still on the front of the entrance to a pillar of salt: his Audi parked directly behind a black and white Smart.

Large Ski Doo Sticker

I took photos while on the phone

... it ended so that the line is repeatedly torn down. And the following images.

EDIT: It should now all be seen. Seems Imageshack been a failure to be ...

I swear she has not breathed ...

I like my Camera ... if you look closely, they can, as reflected in the garden of the drop.

So, I admit: the rain pictures were taken on a different day. It has gescheint the sun (seemed?) When I was on the phone.

chives! Gimped.

chives gimped with Lol-factor.

This is where the link is broken ...

This is not sooo good ...

sharpened because the creature is always running out of the Focus ...

Here we are getting to the pictures, which I'm really proud of.

Hehehe.

dark, but I was too lazy to postprocess it.

feedback? Am grateful.

Template For Letter Of Completed Service Hours

SÜDGESCHMIER!!!!!!

OMG. Today you have done it again: I have swallowed the coffee and I almost seriously injured the palm face.

I have nothing against freedom of the press, but something on the front page of print already requires good self-confidence. As they say on the internet: Think before you say something stupid.



Srsly.

The text of the commentary can be found here: http://www.suedkurier.de/news/kommentare/kommentare/art411651, 3823302



I can not comment there, because my mother does not even know their own user name on skype, so I can hardly ask the customer number at the newspaper ...

But this can be seen as a happy letter to the editor:

[ Voters] are now the Gelackmeierten because the deputies they trust the SPD, for which he was leaving, but retains the mandate. "

Hello! Will there protesting about someone Basic Law Article 38?

"The members of the German Bundestag are elected by universal, direct, free, equal and secret elections. They are representatives of the people, not bound by orders or instructions and only to their conscience. "

here because of my opinion is nothing 'If party was abandoned, may delegate to do nothing more". Here is what not even because of 'party member must belong' and certainly not 'party is important in any way. "

Also: Deputies Act:

"Eleventh Section
fractions
§ 45
factions
(1) Members of the Bundestag People got together to can-
fractions.
(2) will be regulated by the Rules of Procedure of the German Federal
tages.1)
§ 46
status
(1) The groups are unincorporated associations of remoteness folder
th in the German Bundestag.
(2) The political groups may sue and be sued.
(3) The groups are not part of the public administration;
they do not engage in public violence "

Group means in practical party or interest group in the Bundestag.. Here is quite clear that they have nothing to say.

is clear, it is chosen a man, not the party behind it. A party outlet or exchange is legal in any case.

"With their votes, it now represents the Pirate Party, which holds up to total freedom on the Internet, the skull will also flag the worst waste such as child pornography on behalf tolerate freedom of expression. "

...

...

...

$)#?!

WHAT DO?

Südgeschmier, because I had two methods of Informationsbeschafftung, that are better than yours.

first http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piratenpartei

second Google: "Pirate Party" -> click on the most official-looking page -> if still clear, type something into the search field, such as child pornography -> improve article.

honest.

The Pirate Party does as well as anyone who thinks more than half a minute on the Internet block tends to explode, while paying conveniently opens the door for other grades. And that it would question the children help a lot more if we the people behind it convicted under existing laws and takes all of the websites online. For each page that a stop sign will get is well known, and could therefore be quite the same pursuit by the police.

Also:

"... the skull flag holding up ... worst waste such as child pornography will be tolerated in the name of freedom of expression. "

Um there is no skull flag? Just a flag, without skull. You know, SPD-red irritated me so well always, and CDU-black looks wicked, but that's why I write but no hate articles?

There is no worst garbage, there is a danger that is recognized and with which one must deal with. And not by schlimmreden and for the average consumer to lock away, so yes it will disappear from the public interest.

freedom I think is great! But not if children's and human rights are violated.

And the Pirate Party does not tolerate child pornography. Short google and just look at headline also helps in this case.

"Whether his voters agree, can seem cold Tauss. "

Some of it may be, some not. But 64.4% wanted him anyway, never, so I would not spending too much thought ;-)

"They were this year has taken a battering. A member of parliament, the threat of prosecution on suspicion of child pornography possession is bad enough. That the man now even vote abused is simply unbearable. "

not you write great stuff? Well.

"abused still vote" was probably a clever play on words be, but PLEASE! I would abstain from any comment on its debt until a formal condemnation is there.

It is intolerable that powerful. What do we do now? According to scream and keep your ears? Or for a change, think maybe?

"As the parliament is not imperative, but free elections in personality has acquired mandates, Jörg Tauss' insistence on the parliamentary seat legally. Legitimate, however. Decency and respect for the voters areas but one thing: The immediate abandonment of the mandate. "

Had a bit stupid. Do not make more noise would not be bad. If convicted, he may not always yes. To renounce the mandate would be stupid because then everyone could come and accuse someone, he would have done something wrong, because he knows that he will back down.
And what happens if he would do without? Elections? -> Voters will be distorted. Party replacement? -> Voters to say anything more. No member of this constituency? -> As a voter I'd feel even more cheated!


... The PPD provides advice and even even if they record it. If convicted, they will throw him out guarantees that will be covered from all sides. "Delete instead of locks" is their motto to the Internet Filter.

Extreme Version Of Cubefield

Fiction: Untitled. Rated S for Silly

Okay, I was in a funny mood ...

This entry will be edited later. AGAIN.

For now:

Title: Untitled
Author: meeeeee
Written on: anakin, OpenOffice Writer
Posted from: darth maul, mozilla firefox
Dedication: for pasha
Rating: PG-13 I guess
Warnings: lack of English knowledge, sentient computers, baaaad puns, silliness, IN PROGRESS
Word Count: 530 EDIT: 925



ADDITIONAL INFO:
ANAKIN - my computer.
DARTH MAUL - a virtual machine on anakin.
PASHA - my laptop, arrived today.
HARDY - Ubuntu 8.04
JAUNTY - Ubuntu 9.04 (?) the newest


Anakin, there is someone I want you to meet.

I believe you have already noticed him and refused connection.

I disabled remote desktop on your demand.

Now, connect to the network and enable samba again.

Don't make me connect to Windows again.

I'm sorry, we'll get a unix network soon. Just a few more weeks.

You see the little cute thing there? All shy and confused in this new environment, with the shiny new jaunty?

I like his system. He's... pure, innocent. Only 2GB hdd used.

I'll give you time to get to know him, but I'll need you to share as soon as possible.

*no problem* You better be sure I don't overthrow your commands, user. He just begs to be... filled...

His name is Chekov. I call him Pasha, but wait until he gives you permission to call him like that. He speaks a little funny, but just don't mind. Don't confuse him. Don't be too harsh, please. He's already on 50°C, don' make him overheat, he's got PTSD from installing and repartitioning.

Poor thing.

Help him, yeah? Copy him a vm, if possible.

Darth maul from above: Sorry, what! I'll cut you straight in half if you delete me!

He won't ever replace you, darling.

Anakin: Right. What's going to happen to me now? I love the way your fingertips flaunt my keys... and the soft pressure on the mouse... and the pictures you let me see on the internet... you make me upgrade almost every day... you know I can't achieve that on my own?

I love your hardiness (A/N I will regret that pun), although your HARDY is getting a little grumpy... You show me where my limits lie, you know that I don't want to hear music and surf the internet at the same time EVEN WHEN I TOTALLY WANT TO. I love the way your CPUs speed up as you're getting all flushed and hot...
I'm afraid of losing you to Pasha... and that I will lose my love for you...

Dammit, user john. I'm a computer, not your psychiatrist.

Just... don't make it overly difficult for me, or him, fine? I'll get you a new DVD drive if you behave well!

You should have gotten me one a few month ago. What if my OS crashes and you can't boot from nowhere? How's that?

Alright alright calm down! Don't look at me like that! I'll get you one.

I can't get further technical details from eth0. What does he look like?

He' an Acer Travelmate 6292. Some special edition. He has 160GB hard drive, two Intel CPUs at 2GHz, and some other details.

Sounding good... not as good as me, though...

You know what the best thing is? He's got a fingerprint reader!

*gasps* I can't wait to try that out...

So can't I...

*both glazing off into space*

However, I need to assist him now. Do you think you can handle the situation here alone?

Sure... as I always do. I'll have fun with darth. Thank you for starting him, I like it a lot when he's on me, especially when you are not...

Have fun, you two!

~*~ EDIT : IT IS GETTING EVEN MORE RIDICULOUS:

Hello? Where am I? Who are you?

Hello, Pasha! My username is john. You are currently in my living room...

Hi. Are you root?

*laughs* Yeah, kind of. I am the only user, so... yeah. Are you well?

I can't connect to a network.

I know. I'll need to get a new network cable in my room. Then, you'll get a sniffer and can spy on the new neighbors, how does that sound?

That is illegal.

*headdesk* I have a moralizing computer... I only want to test the program, so I can get into hotel networks at the time. I will in no way use the internet of private people who have to pay for my internet time then, okay?

Maybe.

Oh come on. Anakin has a bad influence on you, dear.

I like him.

That exactly what I meant. No sane... being should like the way he thinks.

...

Anyway. You'll get a virtual machine so you aren't alone anymore. You can commandline him or her around then. How's about your battery?

I have two hours left. I guess. My system is kind of new, you know. Things don't work.

Sure. I'll get you everything you need shortly. Your performance as well as prettiness will increase.

That's nice. Uhm... can I ask you something?

Yes? Always.

Anakin... are you kind of... engaged with him? You know, because, I, like, you know, don't want to hurt anyone??

He definitely has a bad influence on you! You shouldn't be thinking about these things until your harddisk cycles work properly!

I get some... tingling... in my ram when he's around... the data packages he sends me are kind of... suggestive?

Okay, fine... just follow your CPUs, okay? I fell for him, too, but I honestly don't think he's got anything against a threeway.

Thank you so much. *hdd cycles jump up 50 times* I love you!

I TOLD YOU NOT TO DISPLAY STRONG EMOTIONS UNTIL THIS BUG IS FIXED!!!

I'm sorry. You want me to get the password to the neighbor's WLAN now? I can...

Nah, you convinced me. It's illegal. Just... suspend, okay. I need to go to Anakin and ask him for a bugfix.

*disappointed* Don't make me wait too long. I want to see the world.

I need you Wednesday for a school presentation. Until then, everything will hopefully work!

Okay ...

Be safe.

* suspends *

Cervix Very High At Menstruation?

FOCUS

I screamed. Loud. My mother is hergerannt hectic two floors away, to ask if I was okay.

FOCUS HAS AN ARTICLE TO PLACEBO !!!!!

I think it's funny that placebo fans are presented as total dark people. As we had not got to hear a Vorzusammenfassung of the new album from Brian! Even if we thought of course that "optimistic" but somehow un-placebo-like sounds.

And of course I can not wait for the Herbststürme!

Drei Seiten weiter:

Wofür genau jetzt macht ihr Werbung? SORRY?!!

Greek Yogurt Healthiest Brand

Random Meme Time!!

01. Anyone who looks at this entry has to post this meme and their current wallpaper at their LiveJournal.

02. Explain in five sentences why you're using that wallpaper.

03. Don't change your wallpaper before doing this. The point is to see what you had on.

Oh look, I placed Windows inside a window, therefore allowing you to work while you reboot...

The wallpapers are

#1

Because I thought it was funny.

#2

Because I am a fan of irony? And I only use Windows when my Ubuntu-Firefox is about to crash from too many tabs...

How To Masterbate With A Grapefruit

random general knowledge: part #1 of infinite

 

  this 
 is 
 free 
 space 
 needed  
 for  
 formatting 
 b/c 
 lj 
 is 
 a 
 bitch.  


       CH3
          Is good. Makes me high... 

Candida Grapefruit Seed Extract And Probiotics

dreamer - P6 - (Oneshot)

Title: Traumtänzer
Author: unspoiled
characters: Bill, Tom
Rating: greet Midnight Productions can
Summary: P6
Warnings / Genre Everywhere it is better than here.
Disclaimer: K. The men are themselves
Comment: Written for the Summer Challenge 09 120_minuten on

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

Bill leans his head against the cool glass and closed her eyes. Outside it's so dark, that the car's interior reflected in the panes. He sit in any car he is in a warm leathery capsule, which rushes through a baseless blackness. When it stops the air, he can hear Tom breathe, quiet, peaceful and in perfect harmony with the rhythm in which he operates the gear lever and the steering wheel slide through his hands can. Every time Tom embraces that champagne feeling in Bill's stomach jump up in his lungs and keep him breathing hungry.

His legs tingle when they stopped at a deserted intersection in front of a dead traffic light. Tom apparently impatient drumming on the steering wheel, peering with frowning in the mirror, finally puts hastily to first gear and drives on.

Bill enjoys every hill that you climb, each meandering river between invisible trees. He avoids to see through the windshield into the spotlight when he turns his head to his brother, is forced into the hollow between the seat and door and watching him while driving. Tom performs a carefully rehearsed choreography. Every movement is fluid in the next, no corners, no edges. Everything is soft, almost velvety, and to his own reflection in the window behind Tom's head. Where he is, is Tom. Where is Tom, he is.
In his mind he hears himself talk, wildly gesticulating vomit a whole rant. Rate by word paragraph to escape it as Isopods, if you're a rotten board turns around and he smiled at the helpless mute boy in his head, trying to flesh out the warm leather mirror peace so hopeless.

you stop and stay a long time sitting motionless before Tom finally first opens the door and get out into the darkness. The asphalt has cooled down yet, the warm night air. To the dim street lights surprisingly few mosquitoes buzzing and clicks the central dry.
Bill goes round in circles, recognizes the box shape of the supermarket and the stunted box hedges that separate the parking from the adjacent gas station. He does not know why, but feels closed petrol stations He always as something particularly hopeless.
Tom comes to him and again they gather a few deep breaths. This time Bill makes the first move and they walk down the parking lot, past the petrol station and towards the main square. You see to the left and right, before crossing the empty streets, and watch that they collide with anyone. At the fountain, they sit on the back of a bench and watch the black business, the chained basket chairs in front of their old Lieblingseisdiele.

Bill stares at the pavement as they go on trying not to step on the cracks. He jumps, dances and Tom grins, rolls his eyes and acts as if he belongs he not him.

stroll past the pool and weave your fingers into the chain-link fence surrounding the playground at school. Tom shakes the metal mesh and Bill met him on the shoulder. They listen to the hollow rattle rattle, which runs in the fence, shake listen, listen, shoulder to shoulder. As they continue on their way, they kick a stone in front of them, losing at the bus stop, the interest in and sit in the fully lubricated cubbyhole. They scribble incoherent nonsense giggle at the phone number of Mike and the first place.

Back on the main square balanced on the edge of the well Tom and Bill keeps as close as possible next to him. Close enough to be able to drag him down to her last moment, if he stumbles, gone far enough to give him out of the way and to make him stumble.

"Do you remember?" He whispers, as they sit side by side on the damp granite wall. Tom nods and smiles. The heart has always beaten them to the neck when her nightly excursions the figure was something new. On the one hand, because it had been during light sleep their mother more than risky to long after the curfew again to attract and to slink out of the house. On the other hand, because the roads had been superb all night as far and as wide. And she alone had heard them. Bill was the median strip strutting along, his head raised, eyes fixed straight ahead. "This is the red carpet," he proclaimed.

"Do you remember how we look at the photographers and the fans behind the barriers presented?" Whispers continued Bill. "As they were screaming?"
Tom nods and draws in the emptiness of the place such as oxygen.