She pulled, he rose to his feet. The area was sparsely populated. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xNDEuOCAtIDA4LTA2LTIwMjQgMTk6MDc6MzUgLSAyMDE1NTUxODY1
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