Quohog was a biker's barkeep. He knew when to talk, what to talk about and when to shut up. Too many people tried to fill the silence with stupid chat...er, Quohog didn't. He also had the best home made beer in the desert. His place was made for bikers as well. It was run down, the tables were scratched and the place stunk of old fried onions. The handlebars of Corley bikes old and present adorned the walls, and the jukebox, an old CD one dating back to the 90's, had none of that country or. I had to let her fuck me. I just thought of pleasant things to keep myself relaxed.“Fuck, it really hurts! Go slow! Do you have any lube? Jesus!”She pulled out of me and walked over to her purse. She just happened to have a bottle of lube inside. She walked back over to me and squeezed the lube onto her palm. She wiped the lube all over my asshole. She again tried to push herself into my tight hole. She held my hips and slowly pushed her cock into my asshole. I bit down on my finger. . More

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