Spanish Fly

Spanish Fly

“I grew up in Puerto Rico and went to an all-girls’ school. I would need to wear a dowdy uniform and clunky shoes and detested it. On the weekends, I would sneak into city clothed in scandalous outfits, high heels and garter straps. It felt so fine to be bad!” Lizzy said. “I learned right away that when I wore silky, shiny nylons and hawt garters, the guys in town would pay attention to me and I loved it! They would drop soever it was they were doing and just stare at me and whistle. Their loud catcalls would make my cum-hole throb. I secretly wished that one of ’em would pull my briefs down, bow me over and lick my gazoo right there. Eventually, I managed to lure one of the maturer chaps in town into a local hotel with me. It was then that I found the joys of foot banging. This chab was bewitched with my feet and would tease and lick my toes and rub his ramrod on my naked soles. It felt so naughty but oh, so valuable. I remember that this chab did not desire to take my virginity, so that lady-killer would spend hours rogering my arches with his rigid manhood. He loved it!”

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