”“Wow, that's so different from when I was your age,” I said then groaned as she leaned over, her asshole clenching down on my probing finger.�...I bet,” she said. “That was so long ago.”“You're making me feel old,” I panted. “I'm only thirty-seven.”She giggled. “That's twice as hold as me.”Her mouth engulfed my girl-dick. I shuddered as she sucked, her hand fisting the base of my shaft as she bobbed her head. She was good at that. She must have had lot of practice on my daughter's futa-cock. I. Then there was the patchouli and ylang-ylang oil. Plenty of that, too, in a small amber chamber held between two soft swollen rivulets. Finally, there were the prurient memories, hectoring each member of the four-Fingered council to escort them to the back of the mind and tame the snorting wet beast whose muscular soul beat life into every pore.Ring-Finger, with all her finery, approached the meeting with Pinky, her undersized assistant peeping round each gold, silver, and diamond belt. Already. More

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