”I looked at her perfectly manicured nails and nervously wiped a grubby palm on my jeans before accepting the handshake. “I’m sorry,” I said, ...��but I don’t recognize your name.”“Ahh, no… that’s because you know me as Mr. Marshall.”I released her hand and blinked again, puzzled. “I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Marshall?”She nodded. ”Look, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’m not making myself clear, am I?” I didn’t respond and she carried on, “I am here about buying your painting. To be safe, I always. .. She’s either super-sensitive, or she’s playing it up for the camera ... We can’t tell.It really doesn’t take long before she’s shaking more and more, clamping her jaws together, baring her teeth, and squeezing her eyes tight shut and cumming harder than a heart attack ... Bending her legs as her knees weaken, leaning back into the American, who also leans back, supporting her in her moment of weakness ... Her mouth next to her guest’s ear, whispering about her being a “Fucking whore...” and. More

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