... must submit to her guardian when it comes to his personal hygiene. As a baby loved and cherished. And a caressing hand, soap with a washcloth or without fluffy, the master tenderly washed the little round belly, the sensitive inner thighs and plump as widely torn the doors of a temple by a morning of celebration ... the crotch of his decorated down which makes the Corolla around mold, the conch which the educator bears particular attention again, as it should be ...
Mitou He asks about his recent conduct, in the shower, the toilet in his bed. And it gives him a whispered chant all the secrets of his heart and his ass, naked truth will confess that not even his mother. Because she knows he loves her in the nude shameless avowal, disturbing, intimate that thrilled her lip and fogs his eyes ... as the secrets are extorted from him by severities meticulously lavished here and there, right and left, round the edges fleshy, hemmed, sex odor that repels and swells under the authority This masculine hand with slender fingers prove infinitely tender, but the nails may be necessary guitarist as sharp as the claws of a cat ...
Index lecture then moves lower, beyond the commissure of the orchid fragrant and neat but now sulky have been lovingly punished, until 
at pleated button, darker, more swarthy more secretive than the pupil has now distracted him with even more convenience by rolling up the backside. And the pulp of the index, soapy and sticky liqueur, initiates a tiny rotating a methodical slowness ... traversing the circumference of the orifice that contracts ... and exploring the valley of the shadows ... it gives to the resident a caress of a light as air ... now touring across the slope with a distended admirable science of unexpressed desires that are beating louder and the pounding heart of the pupil gracile, while a squealing fuse between his teeth, a rattle burst from his throat. Then the hairy hand, virile, which becomes large as a paddle away, rising and running an arc of a circle whose troumignon in turmoil is the focus, it falls down and slams masterfully, the swarthy and round butt of putti that was not wise at all and whose abandonment, the pranks, the insolence call all the hardships!
at pleated button, darker, more swarthy more secretive than the pupil has now distracted him with even more convenience by rolling up the backside. And the pulp of the index, soapy and sticky liqueur, initiates a tiny rotating a methodical slowness ... traversing the circumference of the orifice that contracts ... and exploring the valley of the shadows ... it gives to the resident a caress of a light as air ... now touring across the slope with a distended admirable science of unexpressed desires that are beating louder and the pounding heart of the pupil gracile, while a squealing fuse between his teeth, a rattle burst from his throat. Then the hairy hand, virile, which becomes large as a paddle away, rising and running an arc of a circle whose troumignon in turmoil is the focus, it falls down and slams masterfully, the swarthy and round butt of putti that was not wise at all and whose abandonment, the pranks, the insolence call all the hardships! 
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