A Fucking Literature Lesson
A Fucking Literature Lesson
Under the mask there is a slut
This is my cake's candle, son
The pressure must be somewhere else
Can we try these positions?
There you go, that's the itch
You have to fill your father's boots
Pick your pleasure
You don't need babysitting anymore
We're hungry, papi!
If internet is out...
She's slim but chances are big
Don't burst yet!