My First Time with Leyla: The Thrill of Her Forbidden Entry
My little apartment. Late 70s. Beaux-Arts days. Heart hammering like a jackhammer. Leyla’s there, finally mine. We’d talked. Lunch confession. Her condition: stay virgin. No pussy. But everything else? Open season. Now, alone. Tension thick. She’s on the bed, naked from the waist down. That plump ass, like a ripe peach. Two white mounds begging….