seasonal poem

Bolivara · Gość

He laid her on the table so clean and bare

His forehead wet with beads of sweat.

He rubbed her here and rubbed her there

He touched her neck, felt her breast and caressed the rest

Drooling with anticipation felt her thigh, her slit was wet and the time was nigh.

The hole was wide and he looked inside

Carefully he managed her loins to spread, as he got ready to stuff the seasoned bread

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