Lesbian Fart Eating

Cire Lishe married into the behemoth head of Vari Family. Sabi-sabi na ang taong mapapangasawa niya ay isang paranoid, neuoropatic at pervert na hindi makatayo habang buhay sa kanyang wheelchair. Ngunit sa harap ng bilyun-bilyon mga salapi, she gritted her teeth turning a blind eye from everyone's ridicule. She is ready to marry the disabled man thinking of future life doing nothing but eat and sleep. But after two years of marriage the next morning she wakes up from a strange dream. Isang panaginip tungkol sa kanya na pinalitan ng ibang soul, isang multo mula sa ibang mundo ay ninakaw ang kanyang katawan, pagkakakilanlan, at kayamanan. Ayon sa panaginip ay nabubuhay sila sa isang nobela na mary sue, may group petting mula sa mga bigwigs, at ang kanyang katawan ang sisidlan ng babaeng bida sa mundong ito. Yakap-yakap ang mahigpit niyang katawan, nakaramdam siya ng krisis sa kanyang buhay na mas nakakatakot pa sa pagpapakasal sa isang paranoid husband, dahil malapit na siyang ilabas sa sariling katawan ngayong gabi. Cire Lishe: Ghost wants to rob my body, help online! Pagkatapos kumonsulta sa isang magaling na shaman sa internet ay pinayuhan siya ng tatlong bagay. Una, dapat niyang hiwalayan ang pangunahing lalaki! Pangalawa, dapat siya ay kasuklaman ng maraming tao! Pangatlo, kailangan niyang subukang patayin ang sarili! Lahat ng mga bagay na ito ay dapat sundin nang naaayon. Matapos halos gawin ang lahat para maiwasang may magnakaw sa kanyang katawan, may nararamdaman siyang mali, is why the male lead's legs are working, and it is very good at overworking every night. Her waist hurt every morning... This is not a life of only eating and sleeping, and she was scam!

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."