A poem with high socks
A poem with high socks
So disappointed in mommy's little slut...
I see you're in the mood to play
Dessert under the night sky
As suspected, feels like slut
You're not in charge now
Filled to capacity
You have the right to remain hard
They love chocolate in france
Pray to it, slut
Extra stretching to add drama
The cuck is here, the cock is here...
Train your throat