Tranny Bailey Jay blows her load

Its face was a 5.10 non-trad pump, if you can imagine, but up the lithe little botanist had ascended like a leaf in an updraft, not the full seventeen hundred feet, of course, nobody can do that; this skilled young woman had gone up only as far she could, where, luckily, she had happened upon a sunny small rock strewn cwm at about 66 feet, garnished with a lone improbable Golden Mariposa. She had been too tired to wonder why it was there, growing out of rock, though it had been her job to wonder why. She had had been working hard, and she needed a few winks. She curled up on the side of this red Olympus, uncaring of her unkempt iron-oxide hair, and in the spring warmth, drifting, her drowsy moss-green-gray merles rolled back -- oh! -- a start and a sleepy glance... her eyes rolled back then to gaze upon dreamland. Draped on the precipice and as careless as a kitten asleep in the crotch of a tree, there held warmly by her stony Piet� , she floated into deep slumber. Blanketed in Sol's comforter, the five-and-a-half foot Amazon, cradeled in the Land of Enchantment, watched herself, as dreamers do, dawdling in a different lingerie Land without Adam. She eyed herself searching for a white lily in a blowjob garden of pink Carolina Phlox. She surveyed her avatar as it dandled the puple floweres, so delicate, so rare, an Ipomopsis sanct-spiritus offered up to her in the Sangre de Cristos, alive only in the Holy Ghost Canyon. She, lost in a jumble of drifting images and unaware of the Cholla and Prickly Pair and slithering dangers in the motherland below her repose, now dreamt she heard Moki's distant barking urging her to come home. He seemed so real -- and he had been talking to her earlier but she couldn't understand -- and, and -- but his entreaties -- and, and -- he had become garbled, muffled as a penitent's prayer in a Cape Hatteras hurricane, or murmers, as if by her sweet and frail and Baptist, deep Southern, Miss Granny Smith. "Moki!" It shemale and shemale was the alarm-bark going off, rousing her with the unwilling urgency of a schoolgirl waking late for the bus. It was Mom’s hurry up call. Now! Moki needed his water. Now! A botanist needed her work! Now! (Well, mostly.) The field survey was supposed to be done today. Get it done, girl. Now! Relocate that Calypso bulbosa. Find that seep. Go! Wake up! "Ohhhhh, I'm coming", she moaned to herself. She rolled onto her tummy and elongated into a lazy feline stretch, her skin a pink tabby of welts from her rock-sand bedstead. She had dreamt, or had she imagined it, hmmm, not sure, or had she just now remembered some sticky North Carolina summer six years ago? Parties and politics, beer, Tranny philosophy and sex before graduation, love and babies, and the drip of salt her tongue had wiped from her young friend's penis. She droopily glanced over her shoulder at the wide Navajo plains below and took a salt lick from her muskeg forearm. She nuzzled it, trying to recapture the taste of him and the heavy sweet odor of his upraised arm, but it was not he. She had turned tail on love with a man. She was independent: It was her nature. She rolled onto her behind and sprang up -- "C’mon Susan, get moving", she growled under her breath, and in a quick salute she shaded her eyes just as a Captain surveys the horizon above the eternal seas. She imagined the San Juan basin's misty rises and mesas to be frozen swells which were never to crash upon this Galleon of the Desert, though they shimmered and rolled in the spring's sun warmed eddies. They spread across the surface of an immobile ocean, still but for the Pronghorn detritus drifting upon it. This great sparkling desert lagoon enfolded her Great Ship and she felt safe upon its high deck. "Hey!" she cried boobs out. She spied that seep she had been looking for all morning, and it was right over there in a little arroyo, only a 660 yard dash away from the great Titan’s foot. “I see what you mean and I understand,” she said. Maybe he hasn’t run afoul of her just yet? I was not only shocked, but also horny as hell. James tried to think about it in a positive way. “How’d he get out of the car?” She then shocked me when she asked if she could touch them. So, what was I to do? If Lucy had a big black bush it would have hung out of the sides and the hair shemale and shemale that was covered would have been clearly visible through the mesh. Slowly, forcibly he pushed the hollow tube threw the girls cervix and into her womb. I repositioned my raging hard on lingerie hopefully without either of them noticing. No! No, of course not! This line of conversation had Sandra leaking pussy juice. what you want?” "Oh… oh wow, Faye, that was… I mean I've never… wow…" Sally opened her eyes to see me smiling down at her while she babbled away like a horny lunatic, "thank you." I pulled Carter’s drink away from him, and took a blowjob sip. They are designed to drive women wild. I wanted to see how many different ways I could rub it and stroke it and admire Tranny it all at the same time. The room filled with a medley of moans, gasps and heavy boobs breathing. He's audibly breathing into her pussy, with his tongue audibly rasping against her well lubricated and dripping lips. ‘That’s OK’ she replied ‘Come back again tomorrow and we can do it all again!’.