Ever Been In Headscissors

What we do with her ass ... Very


What is done with his ass or that of others ... is done with his heart and that of its dissimilar. Neurons must first be hooked before the butt are in cahoots. Moreover, sometimes a rider seems seductive patter stage approach works, the photos sent by e-mail does not show up too badly, reflecting the fact that they are not very recent ... but the contact of flesh and nonosse turns surreal.

What to do? Leave your mount invocations to Buddha, my friend and meditate on the futility of desire, smoke and mirrors of the soul. Or book yourself a fallback position.

Thus, an exploratory trip that takes you by bus from Montreal to Quebec City (three hours) in search of happiness hoped ... will be a second object, or the exposure offered by the Museum of Fine Arts of Quebec, representing some of the most beautiful paintings of the Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts in Paris. And Sarah Bernhardt, lavishly deployed its Ottoman bounced, you console a former firecracker and daughter of good family who has regaled you Telephone mang remnants of a formerly received education on the benches of Stanislaus ... Miss yesterday having degenerated into a poor adipose whose eyes would shine and even improbabilities than a thousand professional engulfed in a terrible abyss of debt, while the wolf howling at the door. Information taken.

It is eleven o'clock. Gasping for breath, imagination, words, after a week packed thank you, you share it with Muscadet de Sevres away in your rucksack and stuff in the fridge rickety smoked salmon, pasta, focaccia with olives that were constitute the feasts of a weekend rogue, because you usually you have pointed to the food as Roxanne in the siege of Arras.


After a night of perfect chastity, thank you for your kind hospitality at dawn repack your holy frusquin food in less of course and quit stroking her hair in passing: "Courage . "


In raking light and silver, you mount an assault on Quebec, the capital surrounded in all its shiny walls of the rain from yesterday, which will climb the steep streets such as San Francisco to chew the passage the warm mane trees that spread in splendor on the Hill.

Santa Barbara Luggage Change Pin

flesh ...

Very flesh ... I'm here, near you, just behind the door of your room. She bathed in the moonlight filtered through the swaying inquisitive air curtains ... and background of silence, you hear, barely perceptible, the whisper of my voice. The duo accompanies the hiss of your naked body rolling and struggling under the caress of light and enveloping linens that swaddle a coc collects a chrysalis. Dispossessed, deprived, thirsty favors who are eloquent testimony to the dedication ... his thousand pulses and t'aiguillonnent assail you with love ... obviously since that night, on my instructions, you sleep better naked awaken your heart, brighten your thirst, your hunger prod ... since you're blindfolded with a scarf of black silk ... since you have to complacently rolled around your wrists crisscross over your head crowned with gold wide leather belt loop copper who seems are more strictly bind any prison, making you a prisoner. Savor the

rising tide of drunkenness that slowly engulf thee, the heady heights that makes you lose your footing and invites you to flip a switch in the aba ndon ... Delov leaves unravel the leather strap in imagining that you release ... loosens your wrists flexible ... yes ... brings the forearm along your torso into two arcs, like a child draws an angel in powder snow, as a lark kicks wing to gain more altitude . Fold your hands dexterous on soft bulging your belly and let your fingers run up dreamers grove, enclosed garden to where your sex coos your fountain, to the heart of your heart where blooms the tropical splendor that makes drip slowly and his successor at the thought of their contact. Manipulate gently with the precaution of a flower, the height of tweaks applied fingertips lobes so tender, and traveled to lustrous ripple liqueur ... your thighs s round, white, slender like Rodin had chased a long curve in precious marble ... while you hear my stealthily approaching your bed ... while you imagine the grasps my hands on both sides of sillo No marking their points of convergence fluffy to open wider still, as the pages of a sacred book that I want to solve the mystery ... while my breath caress your intimate space travels to an unbearable moment ... before my lips do not open all large as the greedy maw, a gaping phosphorescent fish from murky depths of your soul and my greedy mouth gathers no, do grabs and suck the whole delight offered his generous indulgence before my tongue ... explores the well rose and the scent of the ocean taste like a salmon going back to the original source of Being. If your dare forbid me your hands alcove in a final fit of stubborn disobedience ... I its Isira your wrists and my voice of steel that you also know, that makes your heart tremble, my boy I will rebuke the whip for the rebellion .

Defeated, finally filled, you let go, you're ... you surrender any books as a trapeze artist launches, flying, running in a flash her triple somersault and then unfolds the whole sound and re and tends blind arms, certain that his partner, his partner, her lover, her brother, her father, her man will seize the powerful in flight, pace and flexibility to the glorious moment when mounted, crackles, sweeping wave of applause ... and you moan you whine, you sing, rails gush from your throat ... your rump rider returning to its spiritual vivacity curves, nods to dismiss from right and left hollow and the mattress, dancing the nights of frenzied ride!