Well I supposeIf that all goesThe way you doth describe itMy clit will growMy moisture flowWithout your cock inside itSo come on thenMy cursed friendI...ll lay down on the cartAnd you can showTo me you knowThis sacred princely artWell thank the lordWith that accordShe promptly whipped her bloomersDown off her hipsAnd spread her legsConfirming all the rumoursOur rigid knightPut up no fightBut moved his mouth up toHer glistening slitAnd did his bitHis tongue to pseudo-screwOur damsel fairHer. This was instantly observable since her string bikini top was merely that, the string, no fabric. Her pussy, similarly clad in only string, no fabric, got hotly wet. She shifted on her bar stool, leaving a damp patch. She looked at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. She said, “Come to my suite at one o’clock. We’ll have lunch. You shall have your favourite hors d’oeuvres. My suite is in the west wing, number three-zero-two, on the second floor.” She saw that Max responded to this suggestion by. More

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