*CRACK*Alex felt the soft, wet material of her tiny tank top against his free hand. *CRACK*“Oh yeah! Yeahhhh! You’re in-in-in-incredible! Don’t�...� Don’t stop.” She cried out while her breasts slapped against her sweating body riding his fat dick hard. She now had her eyes closed, the perfect moment to strike. As Alex’s pole disappeared deep into her cunt once again, he grabbed hold of the tank top with both hands and coiled it tightly around her throat. Her eyes shot open, her pussy jolting. It is not Sylvia Plath. Sylvia Plath is a poet.”“Well, you can stick with all the Anne Murray, Sylvia Plath gloom and doom, because right now we’re headed into the city, and we are going to slam tonight—all night long:‘ All Night Long, All Night, All Night, All Night, All Night Long, All Night, Yeeass.‘And again with his strange and awkward dance to a Lionel Ritchie tune she hadn’t heard in years, his upper body sliding from one quadrant to the next, and she couldn’t help but break out in. More

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