In short, you'd always wonder how could someone so short packed up so much heat? I fear that my seven-inches heels would make me superior to you. And even so, an explosive cherry doesn't need much space to combust.

But baby, baby, again and again, a fleshy fresh forbidden fruit couldn't always glisten under your dim bedroom light if you don't nurture it well. If you want it, you can always give it a try. If you desire so, you can always abuse it.

Where's the soothe? Where's the booze? Where's the nicky-tacky, cheery-glazy, honeydew-sweet, stupefying razzmatazz glory of your nine inches cock—fuck you, please, fuck me, fuck. I'm so gonna fucking cry.

I am not gonna be wearing my panty when you're home so do what you need to do with this information, you prick.