Maybe we were plotting this
Maybe we were plotting this
I texted your mom to let you stay longer
Let the pussy feel neglected
Hit that fucking high pitch note
Apple picking and stepbro dicking
Your holes want it
You had my food, now you have me
You can't and will not escape
I want performance, not excuses
I hear she's dying for two cocks at once
Will you still call me after?
Husband couldn't fill that hole
So you never had real pussy before?
Special treatment for special privileges
Let me guess, you want them