Insex - Mr. Pogo's Vaction (120)
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Gorgeous, graceful, and insect-phobic 120 makes her first trip to the farm, unaware that Mr. Pogo has taken a well-earned vacation. 120 loses her obsession with bugs when Mr. Pogo's replacement gets her attention. Roped in nailable positions, she is caned. A lil' softening up, as they say. Then the sound of a zipper, and before you know it, she's porked in alternating holes. 120 is hanged by the neck, a position that gives a entire new meaning to fucking. And in the end, chained to the floor, 120 gets a face total of milky mammary spunk, frothy in her mouth. In the beginning, 120 is dragged down the dungeon stairs and chained opened up eagle on a mattress. The ceiling is with spider webs. She sobs and fusses, terrified of spiders. A iron ring makes her mouth into a perfect spider hole. Later, after a lengthy afternoon roped sitting on the ground, she's roped to a ladder in the barn. The ring in her bud fetish mask is affixed to the lowest rung, spreading her bud to the max. She's made to come. And what's excellent for the goose is excellent for the gander. She's been prepped. She's wet, open, ripe. So he tears up her from behind, lashing her as an incentive to keep up her enthusiasm. Oh, what jummy milky hips and backside you have 120, says the wolf, eating his lips. She suffers another menstruation of tense bondage, chained opened up eagle near the open door of the barn. It's raining outside, a sustained shush. But then she's stood upon a chair with her arms roped back. A noose heads around her neck. He hoists her and the chair is pushed back. 120 swings, her gams kicking. He stands close. She attempts to climb on him. She'll do anything to breathe. After a menstruation of ÒfuckingÓ relief, he steps away, and she's left swinging. 120 concludes up back on the mattress in the dungeon with all those spider webs dangling above. Her gams are folded over her head. Inflatable backside cork and fuck stick go in, but the third slot is slammed with the real thing. Before lengthy her face is splashed with gloppy milky goo. She's left that way, a frothy testicle tonic cascading out of her mouth.
Gorgeous, graceful, and insect-phobic 120 makes her first trip to the farm, unaware that Mr. Pogo has taken a well-earned vacation. 120 loses her obsession with bugs when Mr. Pogo's replacement gets her attention. Roped in nailable positions, she is caned. A lil' softening up, as they say. Then the sound of a zipper, and before you know it, she's porked in alternating holes. 120 is hanged by the neck, a position that gives a entire new meaning to fucking. And in the end, chained to the floor, 120 gets a face total of milky mammary spunk, frothy in her mouth. In the beginning, 120 is dragged down the dungeon stairs and chained opened up eagle on a mattress. The ceiling is with spider webs. She sobs and fusses, terrified of spiders. A iron ring makes her mouth into a perfect spider hole. Later, after a lengthy afternoon roped sitting on the ground, she's roped to a ladder in the barn. The ring in her bud fetish mask is affixed to the lowest rung, spreading her bud to the max. She's made to come. And what's excellent for the goose is excellent for the gander. She's been prepped. She's wet, open, ripe. So he tears up her from behind, lashing her as an incentive to keep up her enthusiasm. Oh, what jummy milky hips and backside you have 120, says the wolf, eating his lips. She suffers another menstruation of tense bondage, chained opened up eagle near the open door of the barn. It's raining outside, a sustained shush. But then she's stood upon a chair with her arms roped back. A noose heads around her neck. He hoists her and the chair is pushed back. 120 swings, her gams kicking. He stands close. She attempts to climb on him. She'll do anything to breathe. After a menstruation of ÒfuckingÓ relief, he steps away, and she's left swinging. 120 concludes up back on the mattress in the dungeon with all those spider webs dangling above. Her gams are folded over her head. Inflatable backside cork and fuck stick go in, but the third slot is slammed with the real thing. Before lengthy her face is splashed with gloppy milky goo. She's left that way, a frothy testicle tonic cascading out of her mouth.
Added: 2014-02-10 • Views: 98 • Duration: 1:11:48
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