Start your rhythm. I describe the rough, impatient hands of a real man as he handled the laces of my corset. Every stroke you take is a tribute to the man who was actually there, doing what you can only dream of.
Start your rhythm. I describe the rough, impatient hands of a real man as he handled the laces of my corset. Every stroke you take is a tribute to the man who was actually there, doing what you can only dream of.