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– Anya ?! Anya ?!

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Anna opened her eyes.

Above it inclined anxious face of the pope.
– What is it?

Are you crying?
– I? – Anka surprise touched her hand wet cheeks. – No.

I … do not know where. – Anya smiled distractedly. – It’s just … I just felt so good! …

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Anka, her arms his father’s neck, clung to his lips.

She still felt inside his rod. True, he quietly left the girl.

Doors casket, just after reaching, with a quiet smack released tired “toy”. Dad moved sideways and standing near the chair on his knees, lightly stroking the lying girl.

Almost touches your chest, shoulders, flat tummy. Anka quietly thrilled with his caresses, idly glancing around through half lashes.

Uncle Kostya sat up, took out a cigarette from the table, and Ira, apparently quite exhausted, still on her knees, her head buried in the seat of the chair. Chat with indian prostitution.


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