As much as I would like to expose the ‘casting couch’ dirty little not-so-secret, I can’t make unfounded accusations.”“True. I don’t think...she’ll say anything, but if she does, I need to be ready.”“That sounds expensive,” Caryn chimed in.“What is peace of mind really worth?” Frank asked.“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Caryn said.“You think the press will care? I thought you had that figured out by now,” Frank shot back.I sighed. I’d only recently gotten a graduate-level education in how the. “Oh, what sensation is this?” gasped the dumpy little windmill wench. “Your ginger is like fire on my nips and itty bitty little clitty! Suck me! Fuck me! Yessss!”The heat from his ginger and the passion he arouse in her began to bake the syrup and flour together underneath them, forming little syrup cakes around them. Again, the Gingerbread Man plunged the large, bulbous candy cane into the dumpy little windmill wench’s dripping pussy, thrusting it in and out, in and out, until she yelled out. More

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