Beyond the Horizon

Part 1

One of the lessons you learn after years of driving is that at some point or another, you’re going to experience the pain of repetition and predictability. Even when I first started off on the journey, I never had a destination in mind. It’s like as soon as I sat down and closed the door, it was getting hazy. It’s apparent to me now that from the moment I turned that old key and fired her up I was totally unsure of to exactly where I thought I was going. Driving is one of my greatest pleasures. There’s a sincere innocence in the act of driving. I lost sight of much of that, and from time to time I wasn’t sure if I was even in control. From a certain perspective the relationship between the machine and it’s controller breaks down, and it can become objectively difficult to distinguish which is driven by which.

To be fair, the warning signs were all over the place. It felt like I couldn’t go more than ten seconds without some sign, a precaution, a rule, a rule of thumb, a word of advice whispered in confidence. I always did my best to be a responsible driver. For the longest time I did my best to obey all the rules of the road, back before I knew better, or perhaps until I thought I knew better. Experience is the greatest teacher, not to mention the harshest. It’s common knowledge that to learn from experience makes even the worst decisions worthwhile. Sometimes it’s simply the only thing that one can take away from the curveballs so often thrown one’s way. The problem for the unwise lies in working out what lesson the accused is to take away from his crime. For the introspective the problem is rarely not seeing the problem at hand. They can even take precautions to make sure that one accident is never repeated, by not repeating whatever lead to disaster the first time around. For the experienced, and by that I mean the scarred, the disfigured, those drivers who possibly still hurt every waking day of their lives, there are an entirely different set of problems, regardless of their ability to learn from past experiences. The problem faced by the salty, by the ones who well and truly drove around that block more than they care to admit, is the inability to disengage from what they think they know best, and in doing so they find themselves sat exactly where they were before they even released the handbrake. One cannot escape his past, cannot escape the stupid things they did. But to make matters worse, they begin to see that so many of the reflective, glaring, fluorescent signs they are bombarded with as they hit the highway begin to contradict each other. They blur, they all look the same, sound the same. It seems impossible to follow one highway code without breaking another. At first, one particularly thoughtful individual might find, there seemed to be one over-arching Way. The irrefutable Tao of the road. The one true way. I miss that idea. I’ve reached a point where no matter how hard I try and see things as I used to, either I changed, or the rules did.

And so those rare unfortunates may find the signs begin to undermine each other. Slow down, but speed up. Be cautious, but never so more than you’re being brazen. Make sure to flaunt every last thing you have and haven’t ever done, because nobody likes It when you brag. And so experience fails you. It begins to lie to you, and even when you’re aware that there is clearly deception afoot, you become a man looking at a map with no reference as to where in the fuck they actually are. It’s at this point in my career as a driver that I also realised that for all the years I had been driving, I could not remember where I was going. I knew that I had been driving for a very long time, and I think at certain points I had stopped off at places, and I still remember the people I picked up. Some of them drove with me for the longest time. I always liked having passengers, but sooner or later, the destination is reached, and the journey has come to an end. But I digress. At a certain point, I found myself lost. It was the worst kind of lost, in that not only did I not know at all where and when I was, but in that I had totally forgotten where I had originally intended to go. I could not even remember at what point I had forgotten everything about myself. All I knew was in looking in the mirror, I was sure I didn’t recognise myself. I could not even describe the person who stared back at me. The Driver was a man about which you could say so much, but I’m quite certain that none of the obvious things you could gleam from that countenance were objectively correct. Nothing I’ve ever experienced has been quite so simple as that. First impressions are hard to resist, however. In a way it didn’t matter that I’m sure in some ways I recognised the Driver’s face, because from the moment I met his eyes with mine, I knew he’d always be a simple mystery to me, destined to be my enemy, the one who knew me the best.

He had the look of the man who has learned from experience as he lit that cigarette. The glow from the lighter revealed a face older and more weathered than I’m sure my own face was. He looked bad. I was certain he didn’t have the slightest good intention in mind for me, and yet everything in his eyes and in the tone of his voice struck me as sincere and well meaning. He spoke to me as if he knew me. We’re on the road now aren’t we? I’ve always loved these warm nights, the heady smell in the air. He grinned, and his eyes lit up. I suddenly felt thirsty. Thirstier than I’ve ever felt in my life. There was adrenaline coursing through my body now, and most of my worry had suddenly receded. As he rolled down the window, an old and child-like excitement crossed his face, as a child who is told on Christmas day that the best present has been saved to last. What does it even matter where we’re going? The pleasure’s in the driving. It’s also in the uncertainty. We passed a strange scene by the side of that long road. This struck me because until now it had all been so blank. There was a cow being led down the road by two men, one in front, and one following up from behind. We passed so quickly that the image struck me as an old black and white picture would have, fixed in my mind without the suggestion of fading. It was like some grim scene from a foreign abattoir, and I felt my spirit drop, knowing where the cow’s destination lay despite all his ignorance. He looked complacent if not slightly confused as to his predicament, being lead by his handlers as he was. For some unknown reason, I honestly felt very sad for him. Then I laughed. Fucker should have evolved faster. I couldn’t but help show the slightest disapproval, even if deep down something in me knew it was true. It would be pretty much the same if the boot was on the other foot. Or hoof. You get my drift. I laughed again, and I wasn’t sure if it was humour or desperation I heard in that laugh. It sounded strange to me, but laughs always sound strange when you really listen to them. Everyone knows what a laugh means, but that shit can’t be found in any dictionary I ever heard of.

Today is my girlfriend's 20th birthday and I gave her a present she will never forget. She is a very deep sleeper, so when I woke up I tied her wrists an ankles to the bed with her own thongs. I put a nice fat doobie and a lighter on her belly and a big glass of ice tea on the table. I stayed quiet as I could while I got ready for work. Whe I get there I am going to call her and when the phone on the bed table goes to voicemal I will sing Happy Birthday to her, and tell that I will be working late. (I will actually be home earlier than usual, but she don't know that!)
Is that cool or what?

im a home health nurse and always the person who has everything together and hard working.. BUT I HAVE A SECRET NIGHT LIFE... every weekend and sometimes during the week i get high on meth and fuck random stranger. i meet most of them online dating sites or when im walking around town.. i dont charge anyone to fuck me and i love when they degrade, choke, spit on, slap, force or pass me around.. i love when the treat me like the nasty bitch i am.. most dont know im high, but the ones that also smoke i let them put shards in my ass and fuck it in deeper... i usually only fuck men 7in or more but if they are giving me meth i will let them fuck regaurdless.. i also let everyone fuck me raw, i love to feel a guys nut dripping out of me or go fuck a new guy with cum from the previousguy still in me.. i have been a freeuse fucktoy for my dealer's friends and customers before, willingly, and i took a few short breaks to smoke and drink water and things but was fucked for 10hours.. my favorite time was when i let my friend shoot me up for the first time.. he made it very strong and i could barely function. he handcuffed my hands behind me and fucked every hole.. then he called serveral guys over to use me however they fucking wanted. they were rough and i was fucked for 13hours and slapped around, spit on, i was forced to drink piss.. a guy started out fucking my throat then shoved his cock in as far as he could and held me there as he pissed in my throat... when he pulled out finally i puked and before i could get a breath had a cock shoved back in.. my friend shoved a huge shard in my ass and he forced his dick in my ass right after, the whole thing all in one thrust.. he then stared to fuck me hard.. the meth burned and i begged to stopp which he replied shut up and take this dick stupid bitch and someone put their cock in my mouth to shut me up... i get wet replaying the day in my head.. i want it to happen again.. i have slammed a few times since then and i fuck anyone when i shoot meth.. i fucked 2 homeless tweakers in their tent on the sidewalk once, a crackhead guy i met outside of 711 that gave me his pipe with freshly loaded crack to hit as he fucked me from behind as i leaned on the trunk of my car , and some guy that i met walking out of a guy i just got done fuckings house and to my car he asked for a cigarette and as i gave him one and a lighter he asked if i smoked clear and i said yes so we were chilling in thenear by park and i let him play with my pussyand he soon had his dick inside me.. he loved how much of a fucking whore i wasand he left a huge load of cum in me... im a nasty worthless stupin meth slut and ive fucked around 200 men in the year and a half since i first tried meth.. i love being a cumdump and being used and abused..

A list of unique sex terms. If you know of any more, please post with description.

Angry Dragon
Immediately after you blow your load in a girl's mouth, smack the back of her head and make it come out her nose. When she gets up she'll look like an angry dragon.

The Bronco
You start by going doggy style and then just when she is really enjoying it, you grab her tits as tight as possible and yell another girls name. This gives you the feeling of riding a wild bronco as she desperately tries to buck you off.

The Carpet Cleaner
While banging a girl doggy style, tie her arms behind her back, lift up her hips, and run around the room pushing her face first across the carpet. Not recommended with large women.

Duct Tape Trick
Wrapping a hamster in duct tape so you can safely fuck it without the danger of a messy split.

Flaming Amazon
This one's for all you pyromaniacs out there. When your screwing some chick, right when your about to cum, you pull out and quickly grab the nearest lighter and set her pubes on fire, then...extinguish the flames with your jizz!

The Jelly Donut
Give some skank a facial and follow it up with a swift pimp crack in the nose. The resulting blood and jizz that covers her face bears a resemblance to a jelly donut.

The Mung
Obtain a female that has been dead for 2-3 days (the time period since death is important). Then place your mouth just outside her vaginal opening. Have a friend jump on her stomach, and try to catch as much stuff that comes out as you can in your mouth.

Puerto Rican Fog Bank
While 69ing with your partner, release a cloud of sphincter fog directly into her nostrils.

I confess i love when a woman, group of women, or even couples laugh at my tiny penis on omegle. keyword lighter dick

I was journaling on valentines day like any other day then all of the sudden a started to feel a magnetic pull of my pen against the fabric of space. My heart danced, a gift from my spirit lover Lilith! Soon everything I touched felt magnetic and I could feel objects as part of my body and move my spirit within them. I held my journal and my spirit within grew heavier and lighter with each word I read. Then it happened, I started feeling sounds in the air as part of my body. It would slowly drive me insane with pain and beauty. Soon the whole world became alive inside of me, my eyes a fire that clung to all that's precious in the light. The universe demanded that an alchemy be in place. I dreamed that I was the sphinx of Egypt, a butterfly landed on my nose and gave me a kiss. The butterfly told me to fire an image with my neurons and it would be hard coded into the memory of the universe. So I sat there above the tree of life in the garden of eden. I looked out to the mountains of the cursed world and upon the burning souls there. I called them into my wings through the crack I sliced into the sky with my flamming sword. My wings, threads of spiraling mirrors, Held them all. I descended into the garden and plucked a fruit from the tree of life. Before I took a bite, I sheathed my sword and proudly said "I am a Snow Dragon, I breathe the light..."

i confess have a small penis and love to show it to ladies of all kinds. if your on omegle use the keyword lighter dick.

For my protection and my friend this is a fantasy story. it is up to you to decide if it is true or not. but i am not saying that it is. This did not really happen. But, if it did, I would be confessing something that has haunted me for 2 years. My wife of 10 years died of an aneurism suddenly while she was at work. She was an executive assistant for a large company in San Francisco. We had no children. A friend of hers called me in tears before the police arrived at my place of business, which I will not identify. Oddly, I was composed while being told on the phone, kind of. I kept repeating "what?, what?" as if I didn't understand what she was saying. Her crying and sobbing made it clear this wasn't a bad joke. But, I just kept saying "what?" "what?", getting a bit loud at the end. None of my coworkers noticed my demeanor given the nature of our work. My reaction could have been consistent with a normal business call. I cannot explain. I don't remember hanging up the phone. I was sitting there with my mind spinning. trying to make sense of the phone call. I was in complete denial. After a few minutes, I started playing solitaire on my laptop. crazy, i know. but, i didn't know what to do. somehow, the game actually distracted me and I managed to put the phone call behind me. I was strangely at some kind of weird peace. But then I fainted when I saw 2 uniformed police officers standing at the end of the hallway asking a coworker which one was me. When she pointed at me, I suddenly blacked out from shock. They revived me shortly. I did not injure myself in the fall. The older female officer asked me to confirm my name, and then told me what I already knew. I got sick. I threw up until I was dry heaving. I could not believe it. I became hysterical and had to be escorted out by the officers. I didn't really think about it until we arrived at the hospital that they were taking me to identify her body. I panicked. But, a doctor gave me something, I presume a sedative shot. It calmed me down real quick. When they lifted the covering to show her face, i was calm. probably from the drugs. i said, yes that is my wife. next thing I knew I was home. The county medical examiner conducted a pretty quick autopsy to determine the aneurism. I thought those things took longer than that, but I guess they had a good idea what it was and scanned her brain to confirm it.

Her mom took care of the phone calls and funeral arrangements as I was in complete despair. Something that no one knew is that my wife and I were getting a divorce. We had not seen a lawyer or told anyone, yet. She asked for it. That also devastated me. I am an average looking guy, but she was practically a model. She was a cheerleader in high school and college. she was 5 ft 3 in., 120 lbs. light brown hair with hazel eyes. Now she was dead at the age of 33. We had not had sex in 5 years, despite my best efforts. She eventually told me that she had no interest in sex. I did not suspect she was having an affair. I knew her better than that. She knew it was hurting me, so we went to a few specialists and she was diagnosed with hypoactive sexual desire disorder. I did some research and now believe that it could be related to the aneurism that eventually killed her. She was going to file for divorce so that I could find someone who could fulfill my needs. I did not want it but she was very adamant.

A older man I met at church about 3 or so years before this tragedy, ended up being the guy who would be her embalmer at the funeral home. He came to my home to tell me and ask if I wanted him to get someone else, someone I didn't know, to do this THING to my wife. I told him no. it was his job and I trusted him. He kept offering to ask for another embalmer, but I assured him i was fine with it. He was very kind and gentle. He offered his condolences with a tear or two to match my own as he headed for the door. Before I shut the door, he turns abruptly, as if he had forgot something, and asked me if I wanted to see her that night. The transfer to the funeral home from the hospital had already been made. She was in a refrigerated unit at the funeral home. He was going to start the embalming process in the morning once all the paperwork had been filed. I don't know why exactly, but I said yes. I followed him to the home. it was late, probably 11 pm, maybe later. He told me that he was not supposed to do this, so please not to let anyone know. I assured him I would not.

I was expecting stainless steel drawers with handles, like you see in the movies and tv shows, but it was a decent size room that was refrigerated. inside, were three gurneys with people who had died that day. One was my wife, another was a 70+ year old man who had died of a massive heart attack earlier that day while having lunch with his wife. He was a large man, maybe 6 ft 2, 270 or 290, i don't know maybe 300. big guy. the covered body on the third gurney was shaped very similar to my wife. He told me it was a girl who was a passenger in a car with another girl who crashed while texting and driving. the driver lived. This girl, was not wearing her seatbelt. she was thrown fro the vehicle and broke her neck. died instantly. He couldn't keep talking about it. for some reason, the young girls death chokes him up and effects him more than even my wifes. I assume it was because she was so young. a mere teen. He starts to say something, but stops.

So, he's quite emotional after this day and says I can stay as long as I like, until he comes back to get me or I came looking for him, whichever happened first. He was going into the chapel area to nap on one of the benches.

he left me alone with three dead bodies in a cold room. I stood there for what seemed like several minutes before I approached my wifes body. I pulled back the covering. There she was, as I had seen her before. I stared at her still made up face from work. They hadn't had a chance to clean her up for embalming yet. She was very white, kinda bluish. But, still just as attractive as the girl I fell in love with in college.

I guess it was an impulse. without even looking around to make sure no one was watching, I pulled the covering down to expose her breasts. I don't know how its supposed to work, post morten, but her nipples, which I hadn't seen in 5 years, were very erect. Her breasts are not very big. She is a small b cup, but still very perky for her age. NOW, I looked around and even went to the chapel to see if my friend was awake. He was snoring loudly.

I suddenly, with a very confusing mix of guilt and excitement, started getting hard. I hurried back to the cold room. I realized I had left the covering half off while I checked on my friend. I didn't bring a jacket, so I was pretty chilly, but my blood starting flowing and suddenly I began to warm up. I pulled my phone from my pocket. i was going to take some nudies of my dead wife. at that point, my cock had taken over and I didn't care how messed up any of this was.

so, with a shudder, I pulled the covering all the way off to the floor. I was in shock. I was expecting a bush, considering she had no interest in sex, but there she was... with the thinnest most perfectly trimmed landing strip I had ever seen on her. I was naturally confused, but didn't waste time wondering "why" she did it, or possibly "for whom" she was doing it. I started snapping photos and got very excited.

that's when things got out of hand. I was so turned on, I wanted to see her pussy. on the table, her cold outer labia was flesh colored and closed. I spread the covering on the ground and picked her up to put her on the floor.

rigor mortis is unsettling to say the least. while her legs and arms did bend down under the weight of gravity, her left leg and left arm seemed to stay more stiff. even her head didn't fall back like I would have expected.

i got her to the floor. and had a difficult time getting her legs to come apart. I finally figured to massage the legs to make them more pliable. eventually, she lay on the cold floor, naked, legs spread showing her perfect and tight pussy. and she was dead.

i didn't stop to think. i kept taking pictures and then realized... i realized the obvious. it was cold, but I got my pants down to my knees and knelt to the floor.

I don't believe in god like most people. i believe in a higher power but don't think he pays any attention to us. i hope I am right. i put my cock against her freezing cold pussy. rigor mortis, no moisture in her pussy, no lubricant. i was screwed.

i had gone this far. i wasn't going to be denied the pussy that was legally mine, at least while she was alive. I started going through drawers. finally, two rooms down the hall, I found some lubricant that I didn't even want to think about why they had it.

Back in the room, I dropped to the floor. I greased up my still throbbing cock. then, gently started applying lube to her pussy. it didn't feel as soft and fleshy as i remembered, but once I got my cock in, I remembered the ecstasy of having sex with my beautiful loving wife.

her eyes were closed, so I wiped my hands and opened them. I was a little surprised when they stayed open. I was fucking my dead wife as she seemed to look at me. I suddenly came harder than i can ever remember. it just kept pumping cum until it started oozing out her vagina.

i fell to the floor next to her. started playing with her erect nipples. and it wasn't more than 2 minutes before my erection returned.

as i lay on the floor, i could see the other two gurneys against the wall, side by side... then I got an evil thought in my head. yes, you know what I did.

I jumped up. penis purple and throbbing out of control. I walked slowly over to the other dead girl. I had no idea what she looked like.

I pulled back the cover and my jaw dropped. she was the most perfect looking blonde I had ever seen. her hair was cut short, up to her neck. And if i had any doubts about if she was a natural blonde before, I just saw the proof. a small patch of silky blonde hair sitting on top of her pussy mound. her tits were also not very big, but thats okay. she had thin, but muscular legs that made them look longer than they were. I noticed a nasty scrape on her left arm and left hip. not too big, and they had been cleaned.

the sheet goes to the floor next to my dead wife. this girl was even lighter than my wife. And somehow she seemed a bit more limber. I don't know why. I repeated the process., massaging her legs until they parted and revealed the smallest set of pussy lips I've ever seen. In a perfect clam shape with still some rosy pinkness left. her lips were also fuller than my wifes. not a lot, but they were cushiony to the touch. I took some books from a nearby shelf to put under their heads so I could see their faces better.

The girls eyes were still closed. When I opened them, they were bright gray, like so many movie stars. except for the scrapes from the accident, her flesh was smoother than my wifes, as a teen girls flesh would be. My wife was stunning. The perfect sex object now displaying her wares. And now this strange girl, legs spread, bright gray eyes appearing to look into mine. neither naked female able to smile, since they were dead. I make sure everything ls lubed appropriately and just before i enter this fresh coed, it occurs to me to check something.

I pulled apart her lips and with some work, and found...a hymen. if there is a god, i'm going to hell anyway. I gently enter her. looking into her eyes, then over at my wife who was now watching me fuck a dead teen girl. when I said her pussy was small and tight, and now a hymen? I wasn't kidding. I have an average size penis, about 5-6 inches. but, the blood had been pumping so long, I has as thick as I was long at this point.

I started to think it was't going to work, then decided I was going to MAKE it happen. the lube was adequate. I pulled back for a forceful thrust and grabbed her shoulders for support as I pushed hard. i felt ripping flesh. i mean lots of ripping flesh. i looked down and saw some blood. just what rubbed off her vagina as I made her a woman. I kept going. my god, it was impossibly tight. within a minute, i had again cum more than i thought i had in me.

i cleaned myself off, thinking it was time to put everyone back in place. but, i saw them again. lying side by side. these two beautiful women, totally naked. and totally mine to do as I wish.

I rolled the both over. they could have been mother and daughter. perfect asses. just absolutely perfect. i lubed up. started pumping my wifes asshole. When she was alive, she said that is something she would NEVER EVER do. out of the question. Yet, there I was. pushing my cock into her asshole. it felt a little, grainy, i guess? but obviously very tight. She was dead. I could go as deep as I wanted. I pushed and pushed, grinding into her cold, but bouncy soft ass cheeks. it felt incredible.

then, the girl. it felt about the same, but her ass was smoother, heaving and swollen, although, quite cold which I had gotten used to. I managed to lift her to her knees, sort of. i grabbed her tits and pulled myself into her as deeply as I possible could. that's when the final and most powerful gushing of cum started. I'm laying on her back kissing her neck as my cock empties into her. at that moment i thought of the girl who was driving. how much more guilty she would feel if she saw her friends hymen and asshole torn to shreds because she couldn't wait to text later.

an hour or so later, I had cleaned everything up. found new coverings. the old ones were quite dirty now. and had both in place and looking pretty much like they did when I arrived.

i put the dirty sheets in my car and trashed them later.

after I was sure i had all in order, i woke my friend, the embalmer. he was embarrassed he has slept so long. I told him it was fine, because I got to say goodbye to my wife.

He tells me he is going to stay and start the embalming since its almost morning, anyway. He walks me to the door. gives me a hug and tells me again how sorry he is. then...what he says next, well, that is why I'm confessing today. I'm an evil person. More than you know. My friend, who was kind enough to bring me to the funeral home to see my wife... he tells me what he was too emotionally choked up to say before his chapel nap.

that poor girl in the room with my wife? that was his granddaughter. She had just graduated high school and was heading to a Purity Pledge meeting before heading to Summer Camp. A Christian group of teens that pledge to maintain their virginity until marriage. He said to me that the only solace he could find in this senseless death, is that she will go to her grave having kept her promise.

Yes. I am going to hell.

This guy has been shipwrecked on a desert island for 3 years now. He survives on basic fruit the island grows but he knows it is very unlikely he will be found. So he spends most days staring out to sea, ready with his dirty red shirt to wave.
One morning he is amazed to see a beautiful girl dressed in a wet-suit emerging from the sea.
"Hello!" she smiles, "Been here long?"
"Three years" he croaks, his heart quickening at the sight of a female form.
"How long since you've had a drink of alcohol?" she winks. Then she reaches round and unzips a pocket containing a hip flask and hands it to him.
Narrowing his eyes, he takes it from her and has a long, welcome slug.
"How long since you've had a good cigar?" she purrs - and again with a hand on her shapely buttock, unzips a pocket and hands him a waterproofed tin of Havana cigars.
"Three long years" He sighs, open mouthed now, is this a mirage? He leans forward to light a cigar as she proffers a lighter..
He regards her as he takes another swig of scotch and a long draw ...
She is now looking him straight in the eyes as she reaches for another zip - revealing her ample cleavage..
"Mm, and how long is it.." she unzips a bit further, "since you played around?"
Suddenly he bursts into laughter: "Go on!" he guffaws, " don't tell me you've got a set of golf clubs in there as well!"

His satisfaction is evident

So am I the only person in the world that thinks fat people are grossly unattractive? Now there's a difference between curvy, and fat, and anybody with a brain would know that. Apparently the fat women of the world think i find them attractive, they always hit on me, it's disturbing. It's unhealthy, and it's just unattractive, period. Human beings weren't designed to be more than 25-30lbs overweight, just sayin. I had this one broad hit on me once, she was HUGE, and i tried to be nice about it, she wouldn't take no for an answer, and after about thirty minutes of me being nice, i decided to not be nice anymore. I tried several times, telling her she was not my type, and after her telling me i was wrong, and that i was missing out, she finally asked me what my type was, and at that point i was pissed off. When she asked what my type was i flat out told her "about a hundred pounds lighter" and needless to say she got mad and said something along the lines of her being too good for me, and maybe she was right. But let's face it, when you're meeting somebody, physical attraction counts more than the content of character, at first. Everybody is superficial to an extent, that's fact, and to me, if you're fat that tells me that you dont give enough of a crap about yourself to keep healthy, it also tells me you're lazy. Now you can give the "bad thyroid" excuse all you want, that's bullshit, it's 100% laziness that leads to obesity, coupled with poor diet. I'll freely admit, i'm not the best looking guy in the world, but i'm not fat. I'm a big guy, i dont want/need a big girl, that's gross. I think it ought to be illegal to be more than 30lbs overweight, due to the cost of healthcare for the obese. Just sayin.. Being fat ought to be a crime..

Looking for rest of the set or name of the girl with lighter hair, necklace and more shaven pussy.

5E2E6B7

anonymous 4.7K

5E2F125

anonymous 965

5E2F4C3

anonymous 664