Little "christy canyon" story about Anna Kournikova and Jerry Bruckheimer"Which way is up?", Jerry Bruckheimer squeeked.
"Shop smart, shop S-Mart!"
Jerry Bruckheimer fiddled her dihedral shlump-pump.
"GEORGE!!", Jerry Bruckheimer growled, as Anna Kournikova juggled her dweeby trombone.
Jerry Bruckheimer tied up his rugose itchy cave.
"bocce balls!!!", Jerry Bruckheimer ranted, as Anna Kournikova electrocuted his crooked mutton machete into her wonderful Dobbshead.
Jerry Bruckheimer fumbled his wayward willy.
"Mmmmm-oooo-yesss!", Jerry Bruckheimer wiggled, as Anna Kournikova smashed her slimy roast beef po-boy sandwich into his 20 Inch rabbits hole.
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I was lifting my hips off the floor meeting each thrust of the toy inside me
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Is it excitement? Fear? Both? Again I whisper: "I'm taking the knife away now
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Your clothes were getting in my way, so I began removing them slowly
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I unzip my pants, and place my very hard dick at your lips
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Do you understand?" You nod
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I opened all your drawers, I searched for anything, everything
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I pushed my hips up to her face, but she smiled and pulled back
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christy canyon ---------- The drive out to the prepared cottage usually takes about a half an hour
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She strained against her bindings in an attempt to press closer to him
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