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Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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This video was uploaded to smarthomeonline.shop on 17-06-2024 02:29:42
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