Oh, young people, what do you know about epicfield... I am 40 years old, working as a co-owner of a law firm, a small one. I go to my parents for the holiday. My brother is a little farmer, and in the evening for a cup of tea, my father asks from morning to work a little for the benefit of the farm, because the staff tractorist jumps in the morning to the wife, who gave birth on the day, and the park and plant someone... Since we started together, I know the technique, and I remember the handcuffs, I naturally answer that the question of the papa, I change, in addition, after this, the shawl and all the business... In short, at 6 a.m., having taken a shake in the hands with beer, I stumbled in the field. Everything was normal, but whether my legal ass turned away from such extreme overloads, whether the trussels were caught by the Chinese, but by 10 o'clock the ass was like a babouin's ass. Who knows, he will understand, bakes like pepper, to tears. tk. The place is deaf / there is no road as such / I swallow from the tracto / ti / r on the semi-inclined, I remove shorts with trussels and put a much-suffering ass on the wind. and caffe. Tears from the eyes. Diesel tarachtites, the wind of the causandals rolls, super, until the stealthy voice of the beat from behind asks "Son, are you waiting for someone?". The most rotting was a small snooker, which, fuckingly, could not get out of the car for five minutes.