The torn tights and the human carpet. Torn tights and the doormat man. What a pity my beautiful tights are broken, no, broken they are even more beautiful and even more sexy. Then what does it matter to the doormat man under my feet if the socks are broken, he can only suffer, he can only smell the veiled foot or the bare foot but he cannot choose. The doormat man finds himself under me to be trampled on and crushed with my weight he certainly doesn't have to pay attention to my socks.

Calze rotte e l'umo zerbino. Che paccato le mie bellissime collant si siano rotte, no, rotte sono... Show more