Now Tramis was a kind, black-haired man with a jovial spirit and a liking for good cider. And to Tramis, the longer the cider had fermented, the bette... it was. Some speculated that his chosen profession suited him, for he needed a great number of jugs to keep his own fermenting cider. In fact, Tramis had discovered early in his career that he could trade his jugs far more favorably if they contained cider than he could if they were empty.On this particular day, Tramis had been on a journey to. Well, not her actual pussy, really – it was still hidden behind her lace-trimmed panties - but so what? It was still better than looking at pictures of pussy and wondering what it felt like. (He’d never even saw the vaginas of the two ugly fat girls that he’s slept with. He only stuck his dick in them for a few seconds, nothing more.)He’d waited his entire life dreaming of being up close and personal with a faultless shrine like this, and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to always remember. More

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