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Well, it did not work out.
It is a pity, perhaps, but not more than that.
The girl, in general, the most common, what a lot.

Pretty? Yes.
But not a written beauty.
The figure is also not without flaws.
The legs are even, but a bit full, and, frankly, could be longer.
Ass is rather low.
Dimon shook his head.
After all, just yesterday it seemed that there is no more beautiful Oksanka in the whole world.
Yes, and not to him alone.
“It was all witchcraft, deceitful, and now you see its real.”
“The boy’s thoughts for the little sorceress were, as usual, an open book.”
The enchantress quietly approached from behind and took Dima by the hand.
– Are you sorry about her? – There is some.
– Admitted Dimka.
– Not worth it.
This is someone else’s, and you will meet yours.
– The sorceress, turning Dimkina palm, looked at her and suddenly smiled.
– And very soon.
– It’s good.
– Dimka didn’t really believe what was said, but it sounded encouraging.
– Your gone? – Yes.
– The little sorceress, hugging the guy, tilted her head to see his eyes.
– And you have to go too.
– We will not see each other again? – It seems Dimkin voice still trembled.
– Who knows.

But a goodbye, I think, is worth it.
The hint sounded in the red witch’s voice was more than eloquent.
– Then I, perhaps, should plunge into your pool.
– Having finished three times almost without a break with Oksankoy, Dimon was not sure about the development of events worthy for himself.
The gray fabric of the cloak slipped from Dimkin’s shoulders to the grass.
When only the red-haired witch had time to untie the lacing? – Not required.
– She whispered, clinging to the guy.
Hardened nipples pleasantly snaked skin.
– You now and so at any time you can.
This is my gift.
In memory.
And suddenly, without any warning, like a big cat jumped on Dimka, wrapping her legs around her hips.
Dimon swung back in surprise, but he resisted.
Clenching the elastic buttocks of the little witch, he threw it higher.
Female lips already eagerly slid over his cheeks, lips, shoulders, leaving a hurried, hot kisses.
The soft, fluffy mound of hair spilled over the belly in anticipation of the rapidly growing up Dima trunk.

And he, as he could, was in a hurry for a “date.”
Here the head of the member, touching abundantly greased with juice with the desire of the collar in the women’s treasury, opened them up, and Dimka in one sharp movement planted a sweet “forbidden fruit” on his own stem.
A loud, ringing cry flew over the swamp.
The sorceress, helping the boy, reached up, then slumped.
More more more.
Dimka, spreading his legs and leaning back, swung the rider rhythmically and strongly, driving her up and down her pole.
On the ground, this turned out to be harder than in water, but Dimka did not slow down.
His piston powerfully slid along the living, hot, quivering walls of the magical cave, then pushing them on their way into the sweet depth, then leaving them reluctantly opening their arms.
The witch, in tact with the guy, squeezed his hips on his side, as if riding a horse rider.
Leaning back, as much as the arms that hugged Dimkin’s neck would allow, and closing her eyes, she shook her head and cried out loudly and often.

A wave of red hair fluttered behind her.
The flames of desire raging inside the little sorceress, obeying the movements of the Dimkin rod, turned into wonderful moisture of satisfaction, filling it with a fountain almost ready to spill out.
– Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
It was not a fountain, It was a geyser! It seemed to Dima that a hot, sticky rain had hit his trunk.
Infuriated rider, clutching Dimka feet, with all her strength pressed against him.
Her buttocks and lower abdomen trembled finely, her breasts often heaved, dry lips eagerly caught the air.
– Ahhhhhhhh.
– The enchantress slowly opened her eyes, smiled weakly at Dima, and tiredly laid her head on his shoulder.
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