"Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS4xODYuMjE5IC0gMjQtMDktMjAyNCAxOTozMjo1NiAtIDIyNTgwMjk=
This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 23-09-2024 01:01:55