Well if its going to be that kind of barbeque
Well if its going to be that kind of barbeque
You had my food, now you have me
Hit that fucking high pitch note
I want performance, not excuses
Apple picking and stepbro dicking
Your holes want it
I texted your mom to let you stay longer
Let me guess, you want them
I hear she's dying for two cocks at once
Let the pussy feel neglected
You can't and will not escape
Husband couldn't fill that hole
Will you still call me after?