She was an artist, an sculpture critiquing her own work. Was the thickness uniform? Was the texture perfect? Was the color of her shit good enough for...such an art work? Could she have rotated her ass a little faster while the shit fell on Mansi to do a better shape? Could she have kept the logs inside her for a longer duration? She was making mental notes of all these finer things. She took a finger in her mouth, lubricated it with her saliva and pushed it effortlessly in her behind. When she. He as much as said we hurt old grannies," the boy said indignantly."You two go inside and wait. I will handle this," the man told the two boys.While he was telling the two boys to go, I took a moment to study him. His clothes, while rough, were clean and serviceable. He was a bit shorter than me. He had sandy colored hair and a thin sharp nose. His eyes were blue."Sir, while you might think you have helped here, you have actually interfered. She presented herself as a boy, and took a job from a. More

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