Wandering saxophone noodled with a shrill cornet, Jazz music: no rhythm. On her knees, back curled, Anne-Pierre complained for more. Unable to bargain, her wrists in my hands, arms drawn back, I plundered her wet hole. Each hard thrust shook her milky white body adorned with the dew of frenzied lust. My weary muscles burned; drops of sweat thrown from me as we clattered together.
from Lush Stories - latest Sex Stories https://ift.tt/351LiPd
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