The image of Worthington, Michael E. Worthington according to his wallet, kept popping into his dreams — the man yelling with a vein popping out of ...is temple, sprawled on the floor, pressed into the couch, and finally, on the bed with his legs tucked under him with his blood encrusted butt pointed towards the bedroom door.He couldn't believe that it had been his idea, but then again, he did believe. He believed with the fervor of a convert that Michael E. Worthington deserved everything that. Max waded out into deeper water, stopped when her ass could float. He moved one hand up between their bodies and cupped a hard-tipped breast. She removed her fingers from behind his neck and leaned her upper body back into the water. He hadn't moved his cock in her cunt. She clamped down with her inner muscles. He stopped squeezing her tit and slipped his hand back down to her asscheek. Holding onto her buttocks, he began making short jabs with his prick. She moved with him, thrilling to the. More

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