#85716 - As soon as the Headmaster had finished tormenting me by see-sawing the long cane between my extended pussy-flaps, Millhouse quickly pulled my pants down to my ankles; only stopping to let me step out of them. “It is you…isn’t it…Lisa?” The grey haired man in an expensive tweed suit asked me. My career, as it is, has consisted of a succession of dead-end shop and restaurant work; moving from town to town across the UK and a Summer in Ibiza.
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