My mom doesn’t realize that I’ve got my own style. I think she might be up to something. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. . Farewell. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 07-06-2024 08:30:40
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