Long, jet-black hair, skin a reddish brown hue, eyes a shade of brown that was nearly black itself, and one of the finest pairs of tits to be on displ...y despite her baggy sweatshirt. Sure, she wasn't a perfect ten by the standards of those phonies in Cosmo or Vogue, but I never read those magazines and didn't give a flying fuck about that. All they care about is the skinny waistline. All that sickening heroin chic crap. No, this was a real American woman, with real curves, flesh and blood, with. April giggled and murmured her approval, although undeterred from her cooking. John hummed the tune once more, letting his body sway against hers with the rhythm. His hands stroked her stomach and her sides as he deliberately rubbed his hardening cock across April’s lower back. She tensed up, moaning ever so quietly, and he knew she’d felt it. She joined in, swaying to meet him and pushing back against him with a cheeky giggle. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” she asked with a very unconvincing tone.. More

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