/ The authors / gildur
An African-American woman named Laura was quite beautiful for her twenty-three years. Black leather, enclosed under narrow running shorts, a thin blouse and new white sneakers, bought a couple of days ago, glittered in the light of the sun's rays. Elastic breasts of the third size, rocking in time with the bra, as opposed to a fixed, smooth feminine press. She had long lived in this small town, where every house was familiar and every street was recognizable. It was the morning of the usual July day, when ...
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