5inch h nd mota h mera lund wo usse mazae se hilane lagi maine usse apna lund muhh mai lene ko kaha toh pehle usne mana kiya lekin jab mera lund ek du...m tight hogaya toh usse raha nhi gaya aur waha mere lund ko jor jor se chusne lagi kya batau yaaro kitna mazza aarha tha usne jaisa lund chusa tha aaj Tak mera lund waise kisi aur ne nhi chusa hai nd phr maine uski chut mai ungli daali uski chut gilli hogayi thi mere ungli daalte hi wo siskariya bharne lagai ahhhh uuuuum aaaahhh ki thodi der baad. I was wondering about the stuff we were talking about last night, and amongst the many other detrimental effects of the big retail chains must be that they stifle community engagement. You no longer need to source anything, negotiate the purchase of anything, actually talk to anyone, you just pitch up at your local big brick box and there it is. Hell, you can check out by machine and cut the human side out of it entirely. Aside from the poor sods stacking the shelves, of course, but whoever. Jim was a couple inches taller than Scooter, dark-haired, and fairly solidly built. Like her, he seemed a little old to be a swamper, and he was; he'd done four years in the Navy, getting out a year ago and pulling some strings to get on with GCR. He had just come off his first run of the season as a swamper on a GCR motor rig. From talking it around, a lot of things seemed to be pretty much the same on the motor rigs, and Jim said that GCR ran some oar trips along in the summer and he thought. “I’m not going to ask you if you enjoyed the show,” she said. “I saw you jerking off all over our veranda. You’ve been a very naughty boy.” “I couldn’t help it,” he said. “It was so hot.” “Well,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I thought so too. I was so horny knowing you were watching me. Seeing you spurt made me cum so hard. It was worth making an excuse to go outside and clean up your spunk.” Corinne was moving into the room as she spoke. It was a rare jumble of items, not least old.