Remembering Luna

I remember Luna.

Her pretty, pretty face. Her pouty lips. Her perfect breasts. Her striking curves.

Her hunger for attention.

What I wouldn’t give to lavish more attention on her, to tie her, spread-eagled, to a bed once again, to press her magic wand against her clit til she’s writhing, til she’s begging for me to stop.

What I wouldn’t give to fill her mouth with my cock, to pound my cock deep into her cunt, to drive her hips as she rides me.

Oh well.

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