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About Kryvyi Rih

So, I’m an accountant, right? Crunchin’ digits, lovin’ *Inherent Vice*—that flick’s a trip, man, all hazy and weird, like a sexual-massage gone wrong. Doc Sportello’d prolly dig it, stumblin’ into some shady parlor, high as a kite, mutterin’, “This is a righteous bust.” Me? I’d be countin’ the cash they’re rakin’ in—did ya know some of these joints pull six figures under the table? Tax evasion city, pisses me off! IRS’d have a field day, but nah, they’re too busy chasin’ corpos.

‘erotic massage’ stories

Here, four women explain the very different reasons why they pay a stranger to bring them to orgasm through massage.

So, I’m walking down the main street, and I see this group of kids playing football. They’re kicking it around like they’re in the World Cup or something. I’m just standing there, reminiscing about my glory days. I used to be a star, you know? Well, in my head, at least. Anyway, one of the kids kicks the ball, and it comes straight for me. I dodge it like a ninja. I’m like, “Not today, little dude!”

College student advocates for preserving Ukraine’s Bukovyna heritage in photo project about tradition...