Orsay peed in farm 2
For a while I watched the people walking along the water’s edge to see which of them looked my pissdrink way and stared at my pussy. They were already out of the woods and heading home, when Ruth pointed out: “We never found that druid stone of yours.” “You represent the hoard?” The older man asks. He had known real torture, she knew, and Orsay wanted to do what Goldenshower he could to ensure that his Pee cock would hereon be subjected to only the kind of mild abuse that he now was given. Her hands ranged down the Arab woman’s ribs and flanks to grasp her hips firmly, sharp nails breaking the skin piss here and there and starting tiny streams of bloody droplets.
