A poem with high socks
A poem with high socks
Officer, i'm guilty
Blow for a wish to come true
I have more questions now, daddy
Uh look, it slides in
You're the nice kind of sick, sis
It's itching beyond control, stepbro
Right there is where you don't stop
The booty is the treasure
Anal gifts are involved
Lucky you, i'm also horny
Extremely busy body parts
Scissoring makes tanning even
We suspect you have an interest, son
You need some milking, cowboy?
This isn't a work project