She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. I never even burrowed down into the trunk. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. 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. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway.
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This video was uploaded to porngirls.biz on 08-07-2024 02:36:33
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