Chatroulette Drawing's Profile

Languages: English

Location: your Dreams

Body Decorations: Rings and Earrings

Smokes/Drinks: No no no)

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Age: 19

Body Type: Skinny

Chatroulette Drawing - Her huge pair of tits.

Blushing very much. She feels afraid she will black out. She knows she should try to avoid that at all costs. She starts to think about what she has done. She talks on the phone with her boyfriend who is still at work. She tells them she has to go home right away. The girls stop playing and they tell her to go down to the basement to clean. She gets down and starts to reluctantly wiggle to the room. Mom comes out. "Good Morning sleepy head. I'll see you in the lounge room after I get you up and ready for work." She knows she has to get up right away. She leaves the room. She crawls to the lounge room. It's a smallish place. Plastic chairs and plastic chairs everywhere.

There's a bar in the center of the room. It's heavily laden with men and women. She crawls over to the bar. She orders a drink. She turns to her friend and quietly says, "If you want to go with us, you can." The bartender nods his head. They walk across the room to the staircase. They get to the second floor. On the left, a man sits down in front of a sewing machine. The other man follows a few paces behind. They sit there both looking over the machine. The man with the sewing machine opens his robe. She walks over to him. She looks at him and orders, "Down." He falls to the ground in front of him. The second man, also naked, crawls over. He bends down and starts to suckle the dog.

"Whooosh" he whimpers. "This is the way it's done," the woman behind the sewing machine grumbles. It's so hard for him to concentrate when he's crawling. "Yes, Ma'am," the man with the sewing machine says with a chuckle. "This is also what I wish it were the case. This is a place where you can easily humiliate me. I think that's my wish." The woman behind the sewing machine grumbles again. It's obvious that the grinding, boring machines are toying with him. "It's not my wish, Sir," the woman says. "It's a building block. We will build you back to your original position." The man behind the sewing machine grunts yet again. It has begun. With a long, heavy, sawed-off, rectangular block, the size of a softball, is dragged across the floor. Laying it across a chair, the block is put back and forth until it reaches a certain height, then spread itself wide, the sides and top edges laid down. The felt ends are threaded through holes in the central core of the block..

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