Nepali

Julia looked over at her own shopping cart (because comparing the contents of our shopping carts to others’ is of course what one does in a grocery ...tore). Similarly common stuff, just less of it, and less classy. Paper towels. Vegetables. Fruit. Hummus. Rosé. Oh my God, Julia thought, I’m so bach-ing it.“I’m looking for ice cream,” said the man, his voice that low roll. He was dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans. Middle-aged; tall, broad shoulders, face slightly chiseled, a two-day shadow.. He began to slide his hand up and down my throbbing veiny shaft, slipping my well-lubricated foreskin back and forth over my swollen cockhead, and, although I couldn’t see it, I knew that the precum was oozing out over his hand as he wanked me.He pulled his own cock out of his trousers, and I could see it sticking out but almost invisible in the dim shadows, as he stroked it with his other hand. “Would you play with mine?” he whispered “I’ll pay you ten dollars”. I pretended to be hesitant, but. More

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