The other day, my wife was asked by a girl friend from a junior college era to do something like a campaign girl at a shooting event with a help part-time job. My husband, myself, also took a light tour of the event venue. Then, there, my wife, who is surrounded by a large number of so-called "camera boys" who produce sour smel, laughs bitterly while dyeing her cheeks while taking close-up shots of her crotch from a low angle. There is a figure of ...
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