Hot South Indian House Wife Fucks Her Young Office Boss
We remember the first time we saw eachother in the seventh grade and knew we were destined forever, blond andblond, and hopeless with Math, each, and terrified of bullies. But soonthe days took us and protected us and we were the days, as the calendarsays March fifteenth, we are March fifteenth, we are the seasons. Weembroider the sky with fleece and bleach up the blue to just the perfectshade on the palette of the sky. We are the warm eggs of our testicles.Just as we are the warm eggs and toast and bacon, succulent, food onmorning breakfast tables.We are the runnings in the dorm halls now. We are the ringing radioclocks. We are the rock music turned on and turned on loudly. We are thecoolness of life. And we hold each other's cock as we have for so manyyears since the eighth grade when he said can we please try this? don'thate me for it....and we have been bulwark and snow and shifting autumns,and we have been the aroma of Number two pencils and Blue Horse notebooksand the cold air. I'd been so busy trying to get Dana out of my life that I'd neglected to find something to fill that void with. I heard a booming sound. At first I thought there was something wrong with either my speakers or the audio processor. I hit the pause button and noticed that the sound continued. Someone or something was pounding on my garage door.I walked slowly over to the door and looked out through the small smoked glass peephole in the center of it. It was the redhead. She was shivering in the night air. I pushed the button and the door started to open again. When the door got about halfway up she ducked under it and I close it again."S S S so I get to turn you down if it's too weird or kinky for me?" she asked stuttering."What are you talking about?" I asked her."Your proposal, or proposition or whatever it was," she snapped. I just nodded."Can I still have that bath first, and can it be a warm one," she chattered. "Eating all of that warm food and going out into the cold made it.
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