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GAME ON FACE GONE
While the big boys battled it out on screen, i played my own contact sport—right on his face. oiled up and strapped in, i planted my bubble butt on his mouth like it was the end zone. every play? he missed it. every breath? smothered under my cheeks. this wasn’t football—it was full domination. no halftime, no mercy. just me grinding down, making him taste every inch while i called the shots.
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