”“Uh-huh,” Yoshiko moaned, leaning her body against Sayuri as her hips picked up the pace. Her breasts pillowed against invisible flesh, nipples...pressing into her boobs as they rubbed on Sayuri's back. Yoshiko's hands reached around the ghost, one squeezing a small tit, the other finding a thick, long girl-cock.And stroked....Yoshiko-chan!... moaned in the busty half-Japanese futanari's mind while the ghost's pussy clenched on her thrusting dick. ...Your hand...“You like my hand stroking your. She had told me before that she clung to her tapestry of misery like it was a stained and tattered baby blanket. She depended on it she said. It gave her the false sense of courage needed to put the stresses of her everyday life into perspective.She continued her tirade as I searched for motives to her rant. Was her mental instability my fault because I gave her the kind of rough, sometimes degrading sex she begged for time after time? Was it my fault I too had grown fond of her quirky and. More

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