Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 01-07-2024 23:02:05
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