Desi Cute Girl Fucking mp4

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"Oh Santa," she gasped in delight, tears of joy beginning to pour down her cheeks as she nearly threw herself at Noel for a hug. "How did you know..." "The powers that be sent him... her," Santa explained, still a little confused but quickly getting his balance. "You know that I've always wished we could have children of our own," Mrs. Claus gushed, pulling away from Noel but remaining close. "And I have prayed that some day the powers that be would let us have a child of our own... That I could one day have my own daughter..." She stared in amazement at Noel. Noel blinked, still somewhat uncertain but she couldn't help smiling at her momma, never having had one before and deciding that she was already enjoying it. Then she looked over at Santa... her new Daddy, feeling a little nervous, a little afraid... "Oh dear," Santa whispered, beginning to smile broadly as he stared back at Noel, "To tell the truth, I had always wished for a child of our own as well... to spend time with. I try to twist around and my shoulder hits against metal as well. My wrists are dragged behind my back and fastened together. My ankles cuffs are fastened too. The hood is unlaced, unstrapped and pulled off my head. I can see that I've been pushed into a tiny cage, not high enough for me to sit up in, not wide enough to let me turn around. There's a heavy padlock on the door. Even if I can get my wrists free from my cuffs, I couldn't get out of the cage. I'm in a dimly lit room. Two of the dark suited men that took me from Inward Bound, (or I suppose two other identically dressed men, how can I tell?) are standing looking down at me. One of them lifts his hand and gives a circling wave. I feel the cage start to move. In no time, it's ten or twelve feet off the ground, spinning slowly on a chain somewhere above my head. As the cage spins, I watch the men leave and I see that there are four other cages hanging from the ceiling of the room. What have I got in to?I'm in the cage for what.
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’ I leaned over and took a look at the photo he was showing me on his phone screen. It showed a lovely girl with olive skin and shiny black hair wearing a denim top. I had been working with the old man – ‘Daddy’ as his colleagues in the film industry called him – for just over three years. He might be old, but he was a horndog all the same. Every so often he would meet some woman and bring her to Bombay for a week or two, have his way with her, and send her back. East European or Russian women, as often as not, with the occasional oriental. His wife and children never suspected a thing. Or perhaps they did, it’s hard to tell. I had started as a valet, more a driver than anything else, but of late he had been trusting me with tasks on my own. Driving his filmy contacts around. Agents, sometimes, his real estate buddies at others. Oh, Daddy was into a bunch of stuff, and most of it, I was pretty sure, was illegal, but that was none of my business. As long as I kept quiet and did what he.

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