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Сообщить о проблеме с переводом
I myself made that mistake a couple years ago. I was in the market for a dildo. Nothing too specific. It just had to be at least eight inches in diameter, 22 centimeters in length, gluten-free, able to withstand thirty newtons of force, have attached balls the size of pigeon eggs (free range, not domesticated), and purple. Pretty standard.
Other than some minor scuffing and a bit of an odor (previous owner was a smoker; by the taste, I'd guess Camel Lights), it was in good condition. After a little haggling, I got the seller to drop the price to $6.45. I used my remaining budget on muscle relaxers and white wine.
It took just one use before buyer's remorse set in. I was in the bathtub at the time. A belt was around my neck, music filled the air, and nana's Life Alert was within reach. I had gotten nearly halfway through Amy Grant's Christmas album when something felt off. It was then that I noticed little bits of dildo were falling off the dildo.