Twenty into thirty. Steph was foaming at the moan of wave after wave of nirvana happening between her legs as he just kept pounding away. Thirty soon ...urned into forty. The only way she was able to keep track of time was she was facing the clock on the top of the table. And holy hell this boy could fuck. Ok maybe she should keep him around. Then finally after forty-three minutes of unadulterated no holds barred banging. No love. No passion. Just good olde American fucking. This boy had the. Now, he had done it to himself again, smiling and shaking his head he considered if he might be too dumb to learn.Standing there watching the day fade into a gloomy evening, he saw every hitchhiker's natural enemy coming right at him. This was truly the last ingredient in a receipt for a bad day. He felt like a swimmer far from shore sighting a fin in the water.The cop didn't see the man until he was almost on him, even though he was going slowly, watchful for any sign of him. Two people had. More

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