“Read this, John. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ” She said. \" \"Not this Saturday, sweetie. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable.
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This video was uploaded to party-hardcore.info on 30-04-2024 01:57:00
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