Other than the thatch of straw-coloured hair Ivan Crossley bore little resemblance to his older brother, as he was at least half a foot shorter than B...ris, and thinner – much thinner. His eyes were slate grey, with that disconcerting manner of seemingly able to bore deep into your soul, laying bare all your secrets and desires. I would not like to be interrogated by such a man. His demeanour was pleasant enough, but Ivan Crossley did not exude the affability of his brother – nor carry the. "Wha... what are you doing?"She is so adorable. Like she does not know what I am doing."Mustafa want this asshole," – I say, and shove my cock a bit harder against the orifice in question, - "Mustafa fuck you Turkey way now." Oh no," – Christine tries to wiggle away, to escape somehow, but she is weak, especially after spending the last hour and a half being thoroughly fucked by two men in a row, and moreover, she knows full well that she has nowhere to go and nobody to help her. But she still. More

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