A family affair
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It's A Family Affair free porn video
It wasn't unusual to receive a phone call from Rebecca at eleven o'clock in the evening. Since her recent divorce, she often called for a chat with my wife Linda.
"Hey, gorgeous!" I answered the call on the landline.
Rebecca, aka Becky, aka Bex is a "special" friend. She has known of my crossdressing for over twenty years, during which time she has been a major contributor to my wardrobe. She's an attractive brunette, has a great figure, and her shoe size is the same as mine. Only a week ago the three of us had gone out for dinner to Rebecca's local Italian, where we were greeted by the owner Antonio, who planted double cheek kisses on the three middle-aged ladies that had made a reservation to dine in his restaurant.
I mention this to illustrate that when dressed, I pass quite convincingly as a woman.
"Hi, Mark! I need a huge favour." She sounded distressed.
"Sure, what's up Bex?"
Rebecca is a doctor in the A & E department at our local hospital. She told me that she had been called out in an emergency and that her son Ritchie needed to be picked up ASAP.
"Oh! OK, but I'll have to get out of these clothes first and then get cleaned up." It was beginning to sound like my evening as Michelle was about to come to an abrupt end... not even time for my ritual wank. "Where is he?"
Her son Ritchie was having his own marital problems. He suffered from depression and was a constant worry to his mother.
"He's had a drink and went round to see Jo." Jo was Ritchie's estranged wife. "They've had a huge row and she has threatened to call the police." Becky was working herself into a bit of a state. "What about Linda?"
Before Paul and Becky separated, the four of us enjoyed many evenings out together. We would frequent some of the out-of-town hostelries, raising a few eyebrows when Paul and his three bitches entered their bar. More often than not the night would end in a fuck-fest back at Becky and Paul's. Paul wasn't one for going down on the ladies, but he did enjoy seeing his wife writhe in ecstasy as she climaxed on my tongue. Watching Paul's nine-inch cock fuck my wife was my highlight and a sight to behold. All in all, our hedonistic liaisons were enjoyed by all parties concerned.
"Linda!" I had to think fast. "Eh, Linda's spending a few days at her sisters... emm, she's not well." I thought it prudent not to tell her that I was about to go and pick my wife up from her old house.
"Oh fuck!" I love to hear a posh girlswear. "Fuck fuck fuck!" I resisted the temptation to say anything inappropriate. Since Becky and Paul split up I had been seeing to Becky's carnal needs. My wife Linda has a similar arrangement with Rebecca's hubby.
"I tried Paul, but it's going straight to his voicemail."
I guessed that Paul didn't want to be disturbed.
"Shit Mark! He really needs to be picked up, like right now!"
I was calculating how long it would take for me to metamorphose back to male mode and then drive the twenty miles when Rebecca came up with a solution.
"You could just go as you are?" She was serious!
"What! You're fucking kidding me!" Truth be known, the thought got my heart pumping. I hadn't experienced 'the shakes' for a very long time, I guess the excitement of my pending sortie was responsible for a sudden rush of adrenalin.
"I really don't want to share our wee secret with your son."
"Fuck off! He'll NEVER recognize you. I'll tell him my friend Michelle is coming to get him. He's pissed and will probably fall asleep in the car."
I guess I let the awkward gap in our conversation go on too long.
"Aw, thanks, babe. You're a life-saver. Literally."
I swear I never said a word!
Becky gave me Ritchie's location and cell phone number before hanging up. I grabbed my coat and popped my mobile inside my bag. Before leaving I checked myself in the hallway mirror. Delved into my bag, retrieved my hairbrush, lippy and mascara, and proceeded to touch up my false lashes. Ritchie could wait. I adjusted myself underneath my black leather skirt and straightened my stockings. Tights would probably have been more practical, but my skirt wasn't so short as to reveal my stocking tops, and besides my original intention was to join Paul and Linda, and Paul loves a lady in stockings and suspenders.
I left the house wearing my blonde wig, and my wife's black lace teddy, (the studded groin strap assists to prevent my cock and balls from popping out and giving the game away, allowing me to wear her black lace French camiknickers and stockings with confidence.)
"Hi Ritchie!" I coughed to clear my throat. "Hi Ritchie!" It sounded better the second time. "Hiya Ritchie!" I glanced intermittently at my reflection in the vanity mirror every time an approaching vehicle whizzed by, while practising my feminine voice.
After many frustrating years of silence, I decided a few years ago to train my voice to sound more feminine. I adopted the "four octaves higher" technique.
By the time I'd reached the outskirts of the town, I had sung all the songs on my wife's Sade CD. I was happy with my voice.
As I turned into Ritchie's street I could see in the distance a lonely figure sitting under an open bus shelter. 'That's him.'
It had been over a decade since I'd seen Ritchie. We couldn't attend his wedding six years ago as Linda and I were on holiday in Gran Canaria, and it was a few years before that. I flashed my headlights and slowed down as I approached the shelter. Ritchie got off the bench and staggered towards the kerb. I pushed the button to drop the passenger window.
"Taxi for a guy called Ritchie!" It was a bit croaky. Another side effect of my adrenalin rush is a dry mouth and throat.
"Hi! I'm that guy Ritchie." He leaned against the door peering in the open window. "Get it? Guy Ritchie!" He laughed like his dad.
I smiled politely. "Get in."
Ritchie jumped into the passenger seat. "You must be Michelle. Hi! I'm Ritchie." He put his hand over to shake hands. His other hand was holding a tin of Tennent's lager.
"May I?" I gave him a weak handshake and relieved him of his lager. I took a couple of gulps, before returning his drink and driving off in the direction of Ritchie's flat. We had not gone far when, out of the corner of my eye, I could see my young passenger give me the once over.
"Mum said you were nice... but she didn't mention that you were... nice, nice."
I dislike the word nice. "That's nice."
"How long have you known Mum?" I distinctly remember Rebecca saying he'd get in the car and fall asleep.
My adrenalin induced thirst suitably quenched, I again had the voice befitting my appearance. "Oh years." I kept my reply short.
"Oh OK." He took a swig from his can. "Mmm... I can taste you."
"What!!!" It was more an exclamation than a question as I'd obviously heard him.
"Your lipstick on the beer can." Sure enough, I'd left a pink stain on the top of his can.
"Oops sorry."
"No worries. I'll give it a clean." And with that, he commenced licking and rubbing his lips over my lip stain.
"That's not weird at all!" I was being sarcastic. Paul's smile had my lipstick smeared over his mouth. I had to make a conscious effort to stifle my Marky grin and smiled coyly.
We had only driven a few miles when Ritchie's cell phone signified an incoming call.
"It's mother." He looked over at me. "Hello, Mother." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm in the car with her now." I couldn't make out Rebecca's conversation, but whatever she said caused Ritchie to laugh. "Really!"
Rebecca continued to talk for a few minutes.
"Yes Mum, OK... Bye!" Ritchie put his phone back inside his jacket pocket.
"OK?" I was still keeping my sentences short.
"Yeh. She told me to be careful. That you were a bit of a cougar."
"Did she now." Becky had her mojo back, relieved that her son was safe and on his way home.
"It's as well it wasn't a video call. She would have seen your lipstick all over my mouth." He laughed at the thought.
"Yeh! Just as well." I agreed.
"So what if we did!" I sensed my young passenger was fishing.
"Did what?" I pretended to bite.
"Have a snog." He was serious.
I'm nearly thirty years his senior, but this didn't seem to deter Ritchie's ardour.
"I'm older than your mother." My attempt to sidestep the "snogging" issue fell on deaf ears.
"Is that a yes?"
I smiled and shook my head in disbelief.
"Are you really older than my mum?"
I was loving the flattery. It's true that when dressed and done up I did lose about ten years.
I was approaching a 24-hour service station and decided I needed to get out of the vehicle to get some air. My fuel tank was half full, so I told Ritchie I needed to stop for some cash at the dispenser on the sidewall of the garage kiosk.
I drove into the parking bay and left Ritchie sitting in the car. I was aware of his eyes peering at me as I strutted across the garage forecourt. Ritchie could now see my legs in all their glory. As could the fifty-something-year-old attendant sitting at his station behind the glass kiosk window. I smiled at him and waved my credit card to signify my intentions. He nodded and smiled back.
I took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves before keying my four-figure code. As the money was being dispensed I felt the presence of someone behind me. As I turned round I could see that it was Ritchie. He put both arms around my waist, pulled me in close and proceeded to kiss me on the lips. I didn't resist.
'Fuck we're both adults and so what if he was my best friend's son.' I thought as Ritchie's tongue darted inside my mouth. The kiss was now a full-on snog that lasted a couple of minutes, occasionally coming up for air.
Ritchie was as tall as his dad, about 6' 2". And me in my heels... our groins touched. He began to grind against me.
"CCTV!" I managed to utter quietly. I was more than certain the garage cashier was witnessing the whole affair on his security monitor. I retrieved my notes from the dispenser and placed them in my bag. I gave Ritchie a £10 note and asked him to get me a bottle of water from the garage shop. I walked back to the car with my head bowed, my blonde hair partially covering my face.
'Fuck sake! What the fuck are you doing?' I interrogated my reflection in the vanity mirror. When Ritchie returned to the car I was reapplying my lippy.
"Did he say anything?" I was curious to know if our voyeur had made any comment regarding our heavy petting.
"Nah! He just gave me a knowing wink and smiled." Ritchie handed me the water.
I opened the bottle and took a few small lady-like sips.
"Well, what now?" I got the distinct impression that Ritchie would like to continue our little dalliance.
I started up the car and drove back onto the carriageway.
"Listen, we can't tell your mum about that."
"No! I'm guessing she wouldn't be happy. But fuck, we are adults." Ritchie was still keen.
"You smell amazing by the way!" Ritchie's subtle flirting continued. "And you have amazing legs!" He placed a hand on my left upper leg.
"Thank you." I removed it and innocently placed it on his groin.
The former was courtesy of my wife's Coco Chanel perfume. I'd administered a squirt while Ritchie was buying my water. And the legs were mine. Ritchie's dad had remarked in the past that out of his three bitches, I had the best legs — a sore point with both Linda and Rebecca.
"I think I need a piss!"
I suspected that it was a ploy for me to pull in at a lay-by.
"Really?" I looked at him with suspicion. "You'll be home in fifteen minutes." It had occurred to me that he could have gone while in the garage, and this was just a ruse to stop the car.
My reluctance did not stem from guilt. It was for fear of my wig flying off while we were in the throes of lust. When I suck his father's cock (that's another story) he knows about the wig and knows not to be rough with my head.
Ritchie's hand was still on his groin, and in my peripheral vision, I saw him pull down his zip. I continued to drive like I'd seen nothing. I had to shift in my seat in an attempt to accommodate my own oversized clit.
Ritchie stretched over and prised my left hand from the steering wheel. I kept my eyes on the road, even when I felt the skin of his cock. I took hold of his semi and began jerking him off. I continued to wank him until his prick hardened. Only then did I glance down to see how he compared to his dad's nine inches. It was a seven at most, about the same as mine.
Ritchie adjusted the seat so that he could stretch out his legs.
"Yeh! You're a cougar right enough." He was in the reclined position with his hands clasped behind his head.
"Comfy?" I glanced over my shoulder. I had to let go of Ritchie's cock to negotiate a round-about. It's times like these when cars with automatic gears come into a class of their own.
"Aww no!" My toy boy was none too happy when I released my grip. "There's a lay-by about a mile up this road."
"Yes... for doggers." It was fairly common knowledge locally. A couple of years ago Linda and I thought we would give this dogging malarkey a go. I was in drab and my wife was wearing a bra, stockings and suspenders under her coat. We didn't have long to wait before a couple of guys approached our vehicle. We drove off before our car resembled a plasterer's radio.
As I remember we drove straight to Paul's. Linda was disappointed that she missed out on fucking a couple of strangers and I figured Paul would help alleviate her disappointment.
"Ooo! I've never dogged before." Ritchie was slowly wanking himself.
"Have you?"
"Indeed I have not!" I replied with an air of indignancy.
The 'P' sign at the side of the road informed us of the lay-by, a half-mile ahead.
"Do you still need to pee?" I was showing signs of giving in.
"What? Yes! Oh yes!"
As I drove into the hot spot for sexual deviants I noticed two other cars parked close to each other. The front end of an HGV lorry was parked up closer to the exit. A small wooded area ran the length of the tarred parking bays, and a long, thick, high hedge secluded us from the road. I pulled up on the other side of the HGV.
"Well, go on then." I noticed Ritchie had lost his hard-on. His cock flopped outside his jeans.
The high HGV truck hid us from the other vehicles and I noticed the cabin had its curtains drawn. 'I wonder what's going on inside there' I thought, as my passenger righted himself from the reclined seat.
Ritchie opened the door and got out of the car. He closed it quietly behind him. I watched him enter and disappear behind a tree on the edge of the wooded area. As I waited for him to return, I gave myself a talking-to in the rearview mirror.
"What the fuck are you doing Marky boy!" It was like the voice of conscience on my shoulder. "This is Paul and Rebecca's boy!"
Suddenly a voice on my other shoulder butted in. "Look at yourself. You ARE Michelle, an attractive middle-aged horny woman. And let's not forget... Paul is probably fucking your wife right now."
Ritchie reappeared from the shadows and returned to my side of the car. I opened my window to be confronted by an open zipped pair of jeans. He leaned on the roof of the car and thrust his groin against the open window, inviting me to free the beast.
I unbuttoned the top button in his jeans. He assisted by pulling them down as far as his knees. I began to squeeze the bulge that was forming in his pants. Ritchie let out a small groan.
"Shh." I put my hand over the top of his briefs and once again felt his cock. He pulled his pants down to reveal his revived hard-on.
"I want to taste your spunk," I whispered, before pulling his foreskin back to reveal his purple dome.
"Oh! Fuck! Michelle... do it! Suck me."
"Don't tell your mother," I whispered before taking his bell-end into my mouth.
By now my own clitty had swollen and was aching to be released. I manoeuvred things around under my skirt with my free hand, out of Ritchie's line of sight. As far as he was concerned I was frigging myself. I made the appropriate noises to suit the occasion.
I continued to wank and suck on Ritchie's stiff cock. His "appropriate noises" were louder than mine.
"Oh fuck, Michelle! Oh! Fuck!" He began slapping the car roof.
"Shh!" I stopped sucking briefly. "You'll wake the truck driver!" I was whispering.
Ritchie was blocking my view and I couldn't see the truck's cabin. He looked over his shoulder.
"Too late," Ritchie whispered back. The said truck driver was peering quite openly from a large gap in his curtain. "We're being watched."
What did I expect? We WERE 'doing it' in a notoriously known dogger's lay-by. I could count myself lucky that there wasn't a queue forming.
I continued jerking my present 'client' and lifted my head to see out of the windscreen. Sure enough, the guy was witnessing our action unashamedly. He even smiled when he saw my head emerging from beneath the dash.
This really had my clit fighting against the studded groin strap in my teddy. Before I knew it my prick was stiff hard. I was experiencing the uncontrollable body tremors once again. I drank it all in and I was loving it.
I held my gaze with our voyeur long enough to describe him in a photo-fit: fifties, bald round head, stubbled chin... Oh and a tattoo on an arm that was moving up and down. "Wow, he's having a wank!"
Fortunately, the weight of my leather skirt concealed the activity beneath, as I took my frustration out on Ritchie's cock. I manoeuvred him to a spot where I could continue my oral, whilst giving our truck-driving scopophiliac (aren't thesaurus's wonderful?) a better view of the proceedings.
My name is Michelle. And I'm a crossdressing exhibitionist. I think it's fair to say that the majority of transvestites all have that exhibitionistic disorder thing. No, it really is a thing!
Meanwhile back at the lay-by...
I continued to wank Ritchie, albeit irregularly and decided to take his load into my mouth.
"I want to taste your spunk." I felt my voice dropped a couple of octaves. My hard-on had triggered a testosterone boost. Or it might have been the other way about, but either way, it was a reminder of my gender.
"I'm almost cumming!" Ritchie had failed to hear the drop in my timbre. "Oh! Fuck, Michelle! I'm going to cum!"
Maybe it was my vigorous wanking technique, but this boy was about to blow. So to speak. It had been a relatively short time since we began and Ritchie wasn't for holding back. I enveloped his crimson dome with my mouth and sucked hard. Ritchie's short quick thrusts hitting the back of my throat.
Ritchie's groans were guttural. It was difficult to suck and wank simultaneously for fear of punching my own chin. A problem my wife Linda has when 'doing' me. A problem neither of us has with Ritchie's dad.
While jerking him off I used a few of his mum's words of encouragement. "Come on babe. Shoot your cum. Your sticky spunk. Shoot it. Fuck! shoot your..."
"Ohhh! Yeh! Ohhh Fuuck!" Ritchie was cumming. I'd had enough time to spot the signs of his oncumming orgasm, and was able to take most of his load into my mouth. A couple of early spurts hit my chin and dropped onto my black velvet teddy top.
I had tasted spunk twice before. My own (obviously!) and this guy's father's. Ritchie's spunk was like a salty sauce, not as thick as my aforementioned spunk donors. As fast as I swallowed his smooth creamy liquid, he kept spurting more to the back of my throat. I continued to suck, periodically licking excess cum from my lips.
I felt myself having what can only be described as a mini-climax. It was enough for me to feel my own juices running down my thigh.
"That...was...amazeballs!" Ritchie still had his hands on the luggage bar that ran the length of the car roof. He leaned down and saw me lick the last of his cream from the side of my lower lip.
"OK! Get in."
"Wow! Talk about wham, bang, thank you, ma'am." Ritchie's quip made me smile. "You are one..."
"One what?" I waited for his reply.
"One incredible lady!"
Now that's better than 'nice'. I'd go as far as to say, that it was the biggest compliment and confidence boost... ever.
As Ritchie gingerly walked around the back of the car I took a swig of water and swished the remnants of cum in a couple of swallows. I checked my face in the vanity mirror. Considering the treatment my mouth and lips got, I looked OK. At least nothing that a touch-up of lippy couldn't sort. I was applying the pink stick as Ritchie got in and buckled up.
Show over! Our truck driving friend had disappeared back behind his curtain.
"You OK?" Ritchie asked sheepishly.
"Yeh! You?" I replied, with an equal amount of sheepishness.
I noticed at Ritchie's feet, his crushed empty tin of Tennants.
"Pass me that tin babe." I pointed towards his footwell. Ritchie obliged without question.
"Back in a flash!"
I'd spotted a refuse bin on the other side of the lay-by and I hate clutter in the car. I opened my door and exited, like a celebrity exiting a limo. Everything had returned to 'normal' down below, thankfully, and after a few adjustments to my skirt, I was ready to stroll across the tarmac... beneath a three-quarter harvest moon... to the litter bin.
I clip-clopped past the high lorry cabin and sauntered across the tarmac. The two vehicles I spied on entry were still there. Suddenly I was lit up like a WW2 prisoner on a failed escape attempt.
I looked over my shoulder and was blinded by the intense light emitting from a full rack of headlights fitted on the roof of the truck. I would have been disappointed if our truck driving friend had missed my finale. It was for his benefit after all. But I wasn't expecting to be under the spotlight, literally.
It took a few seconds to focus on the big white round concrete bin. I threw the can from a few feet away. "Oops! missed." The aluminium can bounced off the rim and landed quietly on the grass verge in front of me. I took my time bending over to pick up my litter and was close enough to just drop it in.
I was a big fan of the late Diana Princess Of Wales and in years gone by I used to practise her coy expression. I adopted the flirty coy Diana expression and flicked my fingers through my hair.
The scene, if in a movie, would have been shot in slow-motion from the truck drivers aspect, as he watched the blonde in the short leather skirt and stilettos strut like a catwalk model. As I passed his cab I looked up and smiled.
Once back in the relative safety of my vehicle I buckled up and reversed out of the parking bay.
"What the fuck was that all about?" My passenger looked puzzled.
I could have said, "It's a crossdressing exhibitionist thing!" But I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "I hate litter," then drove off.
"Oh, your phone rang by the way. Twice."
"Oh shit!" I'd kinda forgotten the time. The dashboard clock displayed '01.15" and I was supposed to pick Linda up at midnight. Sure enough, Linda had called. Twice! And there were three text messages. Two from Linda and one from Paul. I decided to wait until I dropped my toy boy off before responding.
"So you're missing your wife then?" I was being sarcastic.
"Knock knock..." Wasn't the reply I was expecting.
"What?"
"Knock knock!"
"OK! Who's there?" I went along with it.
"Jo!"
"Jo who?"
"Exactly."
I instinctively gave him a girly slap on the shoulder.
"Can I see you again?" Ritchie went all serious. "I'd love to fuck you." Now he'd gone too far. But I allowed him to ramble on.
"You're just what I needed! Jo and I haven't fucked for over a year. I just couldn't get it up, if you know what I mean."
I nodded.
Ritchie continued. "I thought it was me! But she just doesn't do it for me. Now you! On the other hand..."
Here it comes... "Yeh you're older but that brings experience. You're way too sexy! I loved when you walked across to the litter bin. Oh and the bending down to pick up the can was inspired."
We both chuckled for a few seconds.
"And I've never had my cock sucked like that before. Ever!"
There was a silent gap where Ritchie expected me to say something. Which I did. "Ehh... Thanks."
"Can I tell you something?" Ritchie spoke like there was someone in the back seat, and he didn't want them to hear. "You can't tell anyone."
"What is it?" I was intrigued to find out where this was going.
"Promise."
"I promise." I crossed my heart.
"I've got to tell someone, and I think it's fate that we met tonight. Do you believe in fate?"
"Yes, yes I do!" I wanted to scream, "What the fuck is it?" but refrained from doing so.
"I feel I can talk to you."
'For fux ache!'
"A couple of months ago Jo and I were watching telly. It was one of the soaps. Two guys were getting it on. You know, gay like."
I nodded.
"And I found it... Shall I say arousing? I was getting turned on. That's it! I'm gay! I thought." He took a swig from my bottle of water.
Once quenched, he continued. "I started to watch internet stuff."
"Porn?" My contribution to the conversation.
"Yeh! Porn. Gay porn."
Now he tells me!
"I've been knocking one off, to guys sucking cocks ever since." Ritchie's confession took my breath away. And then a bombshell. "Jo caught me. Hence my current marital status."
I was literally speechless. I resisted the urge to lift up my skirt and wave my cock about, shouting, "What are the chances!"
"And then you come along. Fate. That's what it is."
'You've no idea.' I thought to myself.
"You're better looking than Jo." He got no argument there. "You've got a better body than Jo." Which surprised me, as mostly all of Ritchie's girlfriends in the past, and including Jo, are clinically obese. So much so Ritchie's dad calls his son "The Feeder".
"You've reassured me that I'm not gay... bi, maybe."
We were, by now, a couple of streets from Ritchie's flat. I could listen to this guy all night, but I knew I had to rescue Paul from my insatiable wife.
I drew up outside Ritchie's tenement block. I was waiting for it...
"You want to come up?" And there it was. Sure I wanted to! But Michelle had had enough excitement for one night. I felt a touch of post-coital guilt kick in.
"No, I've got to go and pick a friend up." Which was true. "Another time!" Michelle managed to get her tuppenceworth in.
"Another time, for sure. You've got my number. Thanks for an... unexpected night." Ritchie leaned over for a kiss. I willingly obliged. Michelle was back in the driving seat. All feelings of post-coital dysphoria vanished quicker than they came.
"I love your perfume. I'll still be able to smell you when I have a wank later."
"Oh, that's lovely." Not very romantic, but the thought of Ritchie jerking off thinking about me was... lovely.
I suddenly had a moment of empathy. If I were him in this situation I would love to have Michelle's panties.
"Wait a minute!"
I unbuckled my seat belt and lifted my bum off of the seat. Pushed my skirt up to reveal my stocking tops.
"Fucking stockings!" Ritchie's face was a picture. He is his father's boy right enough.
" I thought you were great before. Wow! Stockings."
After a bit of a struggle, I was able to slide my French camiknickers down past my knees.
"I thought you might like these." I held them under my nose before handing them to the guy with lock-jaw.
"Oh fuck! Are you kidding me!" He placed my panties under his nose.
"Well, goodnight babe." I shooshed (great word) him out of the car. "And remember... Mum's the word."
"Or maybe not. Yes, I know. Night night." Ritchie got out of the car and waited until I did a three-point turn. I made it a five-point turn for authenticity. I could still see him waving in my rear-view mirror as I drove off in the direction of his dad's small-holding, (pun intended) about ten miles away.
Once I was out of Ritchies street I dropped the sun-visor to reveal the lit-up vanity mirror.
"You're quite a lady." A girly scream came from the girl in the mirror, like a pressure relief valve. I took a swig of my water and continued to drive to Paul's. I turned on the radio and heard some guy talking about some flu in China. "And why is this of interest to me!" I scanned my pre-loaded CD's. "Perfect."
"Legs" by ZZ Top.
"Now then, let's see... Why am I late."
Nadine
- 19.08.2022
- 17
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- Category:
- Crossdressing
