Spanish Fly

Spanish Fly

“I grew up in Puerto Rico and went to an all-girls’ school. I would need to wear a dowdy uniform and clunky shoes and loathed it. On the weekends, I would sneak into town dressed in scandalous outfits, high heels and garter straps. It felt so precious to be bad!” Lizzy told. “I learned right away that when I wore silky, lustrous nylons and hawt garters, the guys in city would pay attention to me and I loved it! They would drop whatever it was they were doing and just stare at me and whistle. Their loud catcalls would make my cookie throb. I secretly wished that one of ’em would pull my knickers down, bend me over and take up with the tongue my gazoo right there. Eventually, I managed to lure one of the maturer studs in city into a local hotel with me. It was then that I detected the joys of foot fucking. That gent was bewitched with my feet and would tease and lick my toes and rub his meat-thermometer on my stripped soles. It felt so naughty but oh, so fine. I remember that this gent didn’t wish to take my virginity, so this chab would spend hours rogering my arches with his hard manhood. This skirt chaser loved it!”

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