Mrs. 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. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head.
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This video was uploaded to warmfuckclips.com on 21-09-2024 10:12:50
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