The prissy bitch didn’t give one fig about my Constitutional rights to free speech in a public building. Indian sex video “I’m lookin’ forward to the Holy Ghost cummin’ upon me again!” she purred, a twinkle in her hazel eyes. Hallelujah, Praise Jesus!”
“Praise the Lords!” and, “Hallelujahs!” chorused throughout the tent. She was wet, a little tight, and hot as a griddle. Once she left the tent, she walked to a black sedan – a few years old, with a dent in one fender – and leaned against it, breathing heavily. I took them from her, black and lacy, inhaled her intoxicating scent. “Oh, yes! “Me and Sister Franny go down on each other all the time. “Hmm, you’re not the Holy Ghost, are you?” she asked, smiling like she just won the lotto as she stroked my slab of iron. The singing died down, until only Happy’s passionate moans echoed through the tent. “I’m the Ghost of Paris, and I molest only the most purtee girls and women.”
“You think I’m purtee?” she asked. “You got one nice cooch, sweetness!”
“Fuck me, Ghost!” she moaned. I smirked; someone was definitely going to cum.
