Tank Top Hunta

beach ball punta – lampin on my 8's, stuntin' all-out at the Mission Ballroom.

See her lookin' round like she in a bad mood, go up 'hind her chair and right into her ear, ask if she want some food, maybe after that we hit the back room – sorry, Macca, CIP, I meant hit the bathroom.  Thin like her top, sheer to her gear, tits showing through got me goin'all baboon.  Her pants on the floor, already axe-kin for more.  On my cock all night, play her favorite tune; screamin' it's too tight – you know I'm about to cum, all actin' too soon.  Stars in her eyes got her like a racoon.

Love for Sale