#185527 - She that that he was a friar judging by the brown habit and crucifix chain he was wearing, and from the large backpack and shoulder bag (that looked as worn and faded as his habit) beside him. She was driven over the edge of herself when the first spurt of clotted cream hit her cunt, the thick potent seed that he had saved in his balls for decades was now pumping inside her cervix of her womb. He only wished her the fortune and gave thanks for her kindness, including a phone number exchange.

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