It seems that the bed was the only piece of furniture in her imaginary nirvana, but it appeared to be enough for her. She couldn't say enough about ho... soft and comfortable it was. The wallpaper was different every time she visited the place, and it was always very old, yet very colorful, rich and picturesque. The chandelier hanging above her bed had small, shiny gold pocket watches interspersed among the prismatic crystals. Then she idly referred to the bed as her "bed of truth." Why do you. John lay back and finally began to enjoy himself, confident he would complete his mental gameplan. A few more minutes of this then he'd fuck her doggy style up the ass and come, job done. Fatally though his eyes were irresistibly compelled to the scar."You're going soft," said Anastasia, looking at him directly for the first time and then redirecting her gaze onto the scar. He sat up promptly and they nearly rolled off the bed, her head narrowly missing the bedside cabinet but he managed to. More

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