Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. But it's an odd case. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. He stabbed into her with brute force. ’ The sword was released to slide back into its scabbard. She was still laughing for about five stabs when she finally that she was bleeding all over her brand new linoleum floor.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 11-07-2024 02:07:52
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