Amateur public upskirt porn
"She needed a part two and the photographer needed to capture Victoria Ramos more than once in her bedroom. You won't hear any complaints from me. Word from Argentina is that Victoria wants to do more shooting for Zishy. I think we can accommodate."
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It is probably better that Max, our Ukrainian contributor, took these photos of Helga Amor. She has that look of apathy in her eyes that I might totally go for. Plus, my insomnia has left me feeling nothing for months, so I wouldn't want her also getting too attached. Yeah, it's better off this way.
"September. The calm before the storm. I remember going to Kyiv. It felt like Russia, but freer. It had it's rough edges too, a seedy underbelly, yet the people somehow appeared more optimistic. Things were heading in the right direction, even if slowly. Pretty sure that's all gone now. I hope I will get to return. I hope I get to meet more people like Nika."
"Hey guys, I only have a few minutes before I gotta pick up my kid from school. Let me just say that Iliza has a very lovable look. She was kind enough to invite me into her home. I documented her in the most honest way possible and it seems you guys continue to appreciate my approach. There is an endless number of ways to make smut. I simply follow my instincts. It's like I tell the little one, don't worry about failure, just make sure you don't hurt yourself so bad that you can't take another crack at it."
Sabrina Nichole was excited to get a workout in at her apartment gym. Even though there were others present, zero complaints were filed. As for Sabrina's shorts, those were chewed up by her lovable pup. I offer no explanation for anything else. Get that sweat on today.
Helga Amor returns with contributor Max. I think she is smoking hot and it wouldn't hurt to see her smile more. Then again, maybe shit isn't going well for her. Maybe she is worried about a global pandemic, climate change, the constant threat of nuclear annihilation, the rise of child suicide, the growing impoverished population, the incompetence from all forms of leadership, the death of intellect and hard work, the rise of terrorism foreign and domestic, the widespread sense of mental illness plaguing society. But also, Helga might just think it looks goofy to show too much emotion. Who knows?
"Real art doesn’t need to be pretty, polished, or easy to swallow. It’s got to make you feel something, like a punch to the gut or a strong narcotic. It doesn’t try to impress you with fancy tricks; it just is. Real art doesn’t give a damn if you like it or not. It’s not about being perfect or profound—it’s about speaking the truth as the artist sees it. And maybe, just maybe, someone out there will see it and also get it. Real art is like life: messy, painful, beautiful, and fleeting. But real art and ""good"" art are two different things. Good art has to convince enough suckers and jerks that it is worth a bunch of money."
Damn, Zach. It is hella cool that you made this job for yourself. I go to work everyday, dreading existence. I have begun a gradual process of poisoning myself. As part of my daily routine, I take a dropper of hydrochloric acid and give my coffee a generous squirt. I started out only adding a drop or two, but over the past few weeks I have built up to a much higher dose. The tummy tingle is an oddly pleasant sensation. Anyways, let me know if you ever need an assistant or something, it could be a real gamechanger for me. If not, I totally understand. Perhaps you could at least introduce me to Maddie Crump. Thanks in advance. -George Tipcorn
How could I bring you an update shot by Victoria Minina and not follow it up with one featuring her as a model? Here she is looking more natural and more mature than when I first photographed her in 2019. I hope those lash extensions have returned to their rightful home, under a mountain of rubbish. Anyways, we explored this small Russian town on foot and found an abandoned bus that was begging for one last piece of ass. It received an exceptional one. Talk soon.
Sorry to state the obvious, but most porn sucks. It is filtered or scripted or impersonal or obviously fake. In fact, that isn't just porn, it is the same with entertainment in general. When I want to be inspired or distract myself from myself, I only do one of two things. A, turn on a video of the 1973 Belmont Stakes. Or B, do whatever it takes to find a confident, attractive, adventurous woman to photograph. That is why you are here, right? You want to see who is next. You want to see if fortune will favor me in this endeavor. It certainly did with Rowan Emerson. My work is not easy, but I leave easy for the jerks who walk around all day with their feet jammed inside shoes.
Stella Barry was sent down from the heavens to shoot with Anthony in Portland. I don't know how the lucky bastard found her, but he definitely did something right, whether it be here or in some past life. This is the first time Anthony faced his fears of shooting in such a public place for us. He was also concerned that the scratches from Stella's cat would ruin the photos for me. Scratches? Really? Where? All I have to say is thank you and Merry Christmas in July. More Stella to come.
"Part 2 of the beaming Rosaline. Such enthusiasm needs to be bottled up and sold. I would definitely buy some. Rosaline is actually a fan of the site that hit me up directly. She thought she'd be a good fit. Boy, was she right. I met her in Miami and we had our fun. More to come in the near future."
I met you at JC Penney. I think your name tag said Meadow. I cold step to you with a fresh pack of gum. Somehow I knew you were lookin' for some. Like a fruit that's ripe for a pickin'. I wouldn't do you like that Zankou Chicken. Cause only you've got a thing that I just got to get with. I just got to get with you. And you know what we're gonna do Zishy! Thanks for the lyrical help, Beck. And especially thanks to Meadow Brink for searing some fantastic memories into my mind.