On Reading Poorly Transcribed EroticaJill Alexander Essbaum
She stood before him wearing only pantries and he groped for her Volvo under the gauze. She had saved her public hair, and his cook went hard as a fist. They fell to the bad. He shoveled his duck into her posse and all her worm juices spilled out. Still, his enormous election raged on. Her beasts heaved as he sacked them, and his own nibbles went stuff as well. She put her tong in his rear and talked ditty. Oh, it was all that he could do not to comb. Buy Jill's book: Harlot
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