Barbara , Vikky: The Climax
In my mind’s eye, the scene was as lurid and downright perverted as anything constructed by any artist or photographer: a mass of golden curls, shoulders, thighs, tongues and pulsing cocks. The sound was a low, constant mesh of breathing and moaning, grunting and sighing: a languid, private monsoon, the air temperature to match, the … Devamını oku