Tight
As I rest my head On the small of her back And admire the arch of her Incline, Letting my fingers play In the saliva still wet And running down […]
As I rest my head On the small of her back And admire the arch of her Incline, Letting my fingers play In the saliva still wet And running down […]
What if I told you, You were just a thought, A submissive, little fantasy, suppressed, Within the quiet confines of my dirty mind, That somehow got twisted and left me