Occupiers style
You: lustful German scum, fascist occupying officer Hans.
She: a simple and honest patriot of the Motherland (has repeatedly had affairs with partisans, who puff-puff)
Goal: wearing a helmet, or better a cap, to make and force the Russian swine girl to tell where the partisan headquarters are.
Style: casynka, mother, eggs, milk, schnell schnell, das ist fantashtisch.
Communist style
You: a convinced and frowning Chekist with a large blued Mauser, in leather.
She: a flaunting countess with an altered face in garters and leggings, bitch.
Goal: threatening and poking (everywhere, she's 18 long ago…) with the Mauser demand to say where the bourgeois count ran away, and where, bitch, precious metals.
Style: “...the hour of meeting has arrived, I burn all in fire...”, under the phonograph.
Old silent film
You: Charlie b... Chaplin, with a cane or a stick.
She: a beautiful stranger in white fluff. With a basket of fruits. Fool.
Goal: moving at a slightly accelerated pace, desperately gesturing, everything very temperamentally and emotionally.
Style: titles on the screen on black background: “Mademoiselle, allow me to introduce myself?” and “Oh! Oh! — not there!”.
Garden assortment
You: Chipollino with a half watermelon on your head
She: depending on her complexion either a passive gourd (puffing cheeks, sighing), or a cherry (e... in the ass, blushed by beets)
Goal: to pump this pumpkin to the very seeds, or to squeeze all the juices from the sweet cherry.
Style: Putting a pepper on the member with a condom, holding a cucumber with corn, casual expression.
In French
You: ugly goblin, with a straight swirl, drooling from a stupidly open mouth.
She: a beautiful beggar, in rags, very hungry, ready to give herself for a loaf of bread.
Goal: To seize roughly and stupidly, "...o ui oui, monsieur".
Style: medieval France, coarse straight movements, unpleasant odors, mooing, snorting, dropping saliva.
German classics
You: a plumber inside a coverall with a toolbox.
She: a rich housewife, a blonde slut, tall in stature.
Goal: without even thinking about the real purpose of the visit, just to have sex with the mistress (me! me!), all her servants, when her husband comes to have sex with everyone together, together with him in pairs.
Style: necessarily have experience watching German porn films, and everything will be clear.
School style
You: gym teacher, in blue tights, quite rough.
She: tenth grader, with bows and a short dress, an excellent student, a virgin.
Goal: who wants all fives in physical education? and in physics? (call the physicist).
Style: in the gym lying on the mats, hanging on the bars, sitting on the horse (involve the hula hoop).
In Old Russian
You: gentle-hearted lord with a belly, red face, shining lips, just eaten (duck in plums), lazy and severe.
She: a serf girl in juice, with a braid, spilled a barrel of kvass, for which she will be punished.
Goal: to eat kissel, to punish the guilty girl especially primarily with rods on her blushing ass, after much orally-vaginally.
Style: steam bath, kvass, rods, boards, the smell of birch and goose droppings.
Presidential style
You: Mr. President, sometimes plays the saxophone.
She: responds to Monica, an intern, in a blue dress, speaks orally.
Goal: Monica Monica let's play the elephant. In the oral... that is, in the oval office, in the view of several guard cameras, to force the pretty intern to give a blowjob while sitting at the table. While pretending to write circulars, finish on her dress.
Style: a strict office with paintings, strict suit, whispering, looking around, silence, "...and only sounds of smacking from below come".
Black widow
You: a teenager, drunkenly getting acquainted with some lady in a bar.
She: a widow, concerned, all completely sadomaso.
Goal: to get away alive. You are tied, she is screaming wildly with obscenities, hits with a whip, wild altogether, to hell with her.
Style: leather, high boots, whip, handcuffs, blindfold, dim light, basement.
In secret style
You: chief, businessman damn.
She: a blonde, his secretary, wears a short skirt and an awesome neckline.
Goal: during the lunch break to shut the door, and first doggy (she holds coffee in her hands, trying not to spill), then we move to the couch...
Style: a cup of coffee on a tray, leather sofa, table, office (press the button in her ass), moan to all offices.
In Bobruisk style
You: I'm a handsome from Bobruisk, therefore a pig, a cyber wanker with experience.
She: a bleating babe, oh..., give me two!
Goal: meeting her (“Privet! kagdila?”) — gothically lay down on the floor in candles (in a "shrimp" position), and having fun thoroughly, with the use of erotic devices and comments on the topic, in the end eat her brain.
Style: introducing devices into her or oneself surprisingly exclaiming: fuck me! and fucking hell!
Cosmic style
You: Shuttle of reusable use.
She: companion of cosmic expanses.
Goal: calling in aid the decepticons — manually dock with the probing companion (that is, companion, yeah), without refueling orbit around the planet three times, while tossing into space or onto the companion’s back a sperm drop.
Style: a flashing light on the head of the shuttle, a miner's flashlight on the forehead of the companion, twilight light, vacuum.
In peasant style
You: land daddy in 20 generations, beard with a shovel, arms so huge!, and kind kind eyes.
She: a woman with such big tits and such a big ass, gave to the pigs.
Goal: to enter the hut, to eat potatoes with fat and onions, to drink mead, slap his woman on the protruding ass, wipe his lips with his sleeve, undress, take off his pants, throw the woman on the bench and fuck... with a soul, fuck your mother.
Style: dirty nails, barefoot, smell of onions and armpits, bast shoes.
In hussar style
You: whiskers, dark-haired, curly, sideburns, tights, Rzhevsky,
She: Natasha wants to become a fish, but will become a crayfish.
Goal: clattering spurs and balls, gently approach the madam. Let's talk about theatre, about music, using a lapdog - to predict the weather. The first act: the mise-en-scène on the piano, the second: on the chandelier (what a passage!), alternating.
Style: Piano, chandelier, tapestry "Shepherdess", cognac, chocolate.
In pirate style
You: single-eyed, one-legged bloodthirsty and merciless pirate, or D. Depp, or our Barmaley.
She: beautiful, what a sky, prisoner, noble as two peacocks.
Goal: having drunk rum and singing “15 men on the dead man's chest”, to pirate the captive against her will.
Style: smell of resin and ocean, palm tree, a swear parrot occasionally shouts: "Burn—burn" and "In the butt, fool!".
In Japanese
You: a crazy karateka, a Buddhist monk Nakosia.
She: a geisha, 5 higher Japanese education, sings and dances, gives and takes, slanted eyes, a type of beauty and gymnast.
Goal: kiiyaaaaaaaaa — bulging eyes, jump out from behind the corner in a kimono, barefoot on the front (on the heel tattoo: "made in Japan"). Kiiiiiyaaaaaaa — running across the ceiling, plunges into the standing bridge geisha. Next follows a series of acrobatic etudes accompanied by sharp short screams.
Style: have you eaten sushi? have you drunk sake? and on the asses hieroglyphs.
In IT style
You: Sysadmin
She: Chicken Klava from accounting, in anger at the places of the labels on her desktop — falls into mystical trance.
Goal: To save, optically recognize the model by critical evaluation of technology maturity. If the visual satisfaction of pixels equals 1, then test in moral-demoralization, background clicking on buttons. After share the butt, allowing multiple access, connecting in multiplayer mode, with end-to-end structural control. Step by step hack, achieving unprecedented performance, upon successful completion (Cool!) — drain. Allowed to backup and recompile by new technology.
Style: server, mother, stones, offline.
Fairy tale
You: Kashchey the Immortal, if dying; I’m Evil and Scary Grey Wolf if in a bad mood and in general...
She: Little Red Riding Hood carrying pies with jam to her grandma.
Goal: The forest, it was getting dark, LOOK traveler — somewhere something crashed (forbidden to get out, even if you peed). But you are not a traveler, you are a Villain who is so scary that all the squirrels around make big eyes and shit. You lay in wait, quieter, for the song wafts:
— Aaaaaaa, …the size of the Negroes in Africa is this wide!
— Aaaaaaa, …the length of the Negroes in Africa is this long!
Here comes Little Red Riding Hood, waving her basket and tits. Jump sharply out of the bushes with x... ready. Ah — Little Red Riding Hood gasped for the first time, Ah — Little Red Riding Hood gasped for the second time, and it would be nice if she gasped once or twice more. For dessert, pastries will go, meaning to eat them (Yum!).
Style: And I was there, it flowed through my mustache but didn't get into my mouth.
