#319789 - The pain eased mercifully, and I reached down and stroked Vivian's matted hair when the owner of the parlor burst in and yelled “What's going on in here,” with a deep baritone voice. “Hmmm - but your one eyed alien might have the wrong impression. ” Like a vintage machine, creaking and grunting to life after a decade of inactivity, my hips slowly forced my glans past the tight entrance into the warm depths, gradually increasing their strokes as her arousal triggered an influx of lubricating moisture.
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