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Damn you, Lucy Pinder. Damn you for looking ever so fine and perfectly visually delicious in little bits of lingerie falling off your crazy hot body exactly as I imagine it happening on our holiday vacations together off the turnpike in Jersey. Unfortunately, I just can’t afford the Mediterranean at this time. But somewhere in Northern Jersey in the overcast skies we shall delight in the triumphs of Mother Nature’s bounty, meaning, mostly your fine female form, as I dress and undress you repeatedly in underwear that seems to never fit you quite right.
Don’t fight it, Lucy, you know you want it too. Call me on the red phone, I always answer, and let our mutual desires out of their respective cages. Enjoy.