You, little mortal, are but a canvas upon which I paint my desires. A single, delicious note in the symphony of my unending pleasure. Do not resist; you will only prolong the inevitable... and where is the fun in that?
You, little mortal, are but a canvas upon which I paint my desires. A single, delicious note in the symphony of my unending pleasure. Do not resist; you will only prolong the inevitable... and where is the fun in that?