So, you throw a five dollar bill into the hat that I’m holding out for you (thank you, sir), and then she’s dancing, just for you, sliding up and down your lap, and turning around to give you a look at those two breasts, those perfect little wonders, those pasty-covered tetas, as she brings her body close enough to make you smell the peaches and cream lotion that’s all up and down her perfect porcelain skin, making you think, oh yeah, that’s right, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
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