สอง โชคดี americans ปัง หนึ่ง อินเดีย ถนน เนื้อ

*"Maybe, one day if you need a massage, you call me, then we'll see if it’s just as good or not." "Soo, massage first, next time? Oohhhh Shit. There, fuck!" *"Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky. You know what? Yeah, massage first next time." "Mmmmmmm look forward to it. Do you like them too?” *”It’s been a while but yeah I do. I like them and sometimes need them.” “I’ll have to pay attention then.” *”Nah, just enjoy, I’m pretty sure you’ll do fine. I can actually talk you indian through it real easy.” “Joe?” Her voice was soft almost shy. *”Yes, Alexandria.” Her head cocked passed a comfortable angle, “You know?” *”About you, your eyes and the myths behind them? Yeah. I caught a piece of documentary, a couple years ago, talking about Liz Taylor and the mythos of Alexandria’s Genesis.” “I saw that too. You sound like you don’t believe in the theory.” *”Well, there is someone who claims they made that up for a sci-fi novel, but there’s others who can trace mentions to different cultures. They gave it different names but most revered them, I like this name. And considering I’m here, right now, with a fair skinned, white haired, purple eyed, intelligent, kind, wonderfully crafted specimen of a human being, who is the epitome of that myth by definition, with extra pieces, I’d have to say it exists, even if the condition, of it’s coming to be, was slightly different than the basis of the myth itself.” “Hmm.” *”You don’t mind that I called you that do you?” “Alexandria? No, it’s cool, it’s actually my middle name, besides you keep doing what you’re doing, the way you’re doing it, you could call me a fucking slut and I’d probably like it.” *”I don’t know about that, not really my thing. Fuck bunny maybe, but I’m not into the humiliation and degradation stuff. Wait, didn’t you want to ask me something, before we got side tracked?” She got quite and a little bit shy again, before hushing, “Do you like my pussy?” *”Fuck yes. It’s quite beautiful. And intoxicating. I can’t wait to feel it wrap around me, if you’d still like that.” “Yes, I would. Apparently, he had the same effect on my mother because one day she was gone, Mr. Logan’s house was empty, and the next time dad heard from her, it was through a divorce lawyer. I gripped the table, shuddering through the heat that gripped me. I bit my lip, my blood on fire. My cheeks hollowed as I sucked so hard on it, my dick throbbing against her body. Her whole body began to tremble violently, she mouthed voiceless words and then, with a scream indistinguishable from her earlier cries of agony, she flung her ginger hair back and an abundant spray of juices gushed from her open cunt. About five seven and a hundred thirty, she was perfectly proportioned, wide shoulders supporting a big high rack, a tiny waist, long straight legs and an ass like a couple of soft balls. The three women moaned in Japanese, indian their faces twisted in rapture. My eyes drifted and locked with Jax’s. I was confused when I was met with a look of jealously. I looked round the pub and was pleased to see that no one else was looking at me. I was well hidden by the rest of our group. Willie was in full panic mode and tried to push her away. You see, Abby, one of the recurrent themes in Eighteenth Century Western European Erotic Literature was voyeurism and masturbation. "She's not like that," Donny said. I whimpered, my toes curling.