Where he carries me depends on my mood. If I’m still angry at this point, still hurt with what and where I am, then we are somewhere confined – a ...ungeon room, a jail cell, a locked bedroom. I fight with him and he hurts me – hurts me so good. I am manhandled, and smacked at least two or three times, but I never stop fighting until his hand is around my neck. That is his power, that is what I respect at this point, his ability to deprive me of air, of life. With his hand, so much larger and. Right now it was buried deep in her crack and she knew her ass looked better than the blonde bimbo from across the courtyard.Sue was getting into it now and bent all the way down to the carpet to pick up small damp washcloth she used to keep the skirt from getting singed by the hot iron. Of course, her pretty backside was facing straight at the worked up to a frenzy neighbor. Martin was right on the verge of blowing his load and his daughter-in-law Mitzi was fixing to head right to her bedroom. More

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