The wheat aroma of bread, the sweetness of cream, the slightly damp night breeze, and the scorching, swollen squeeze.
Taste, hearing, smell, touch, the chaos of the senses brews a shallow pleasure. Yet, who can deny that the delight of the flesh and the resonance of the soul are just a paper apart?
Roy half-kneels on the bench, leaning forward, kissing Sermias. The men's jacket and silk shirt were taken off by the Elf, and the bandage tightly binding the chest was cut by Sebatide Hughes, revealing the soft, white, exquisite breasts rising and falling with each breath. The pants are still properly worn, but only the most critical part is exposed to the air, struggling and sensitively devouring the Devil's bizarre organ.
Sebatide Hughes is really too big.
