The wager is elementary. If u lose, u remove a garment. If Brandy Dean loses, she removes a piece of clothes. Either way you win, so go for bust coz Brandy’s packing plenty of hooter in her top.
Brandy bets that this babe can win the pants off of u, and if not, u receive her sexed-up body absolutely undressed and spread on the green felt for you to knob. Take the bet.
Brandy explained her philosophy about sex. “There’s subtle sex and then there’s just sex. Sometimes you do not wanna make adore. U wanna fuck. Chaps think the same way as honeys do, but chaps just usually wanna get from A to Z. I am more A than Z but not all the time. You got to have diversity. If not, sex acquires boring.” Sex with Brandy could at no time be boring. No rogering way.
Miss Dean is holding a pair of 38DDD queens beneath her tube-top but she can be beaten. “Stores usually do not have bras that fit me on the shelf. I either dictate ’em or do adore this one’s doing and cover ’em a little, but that doesn’t work very well.” And thank heaven for that.
Brandy sucks jock in ways that can make a man’s hair stand on end. This babe bears a resemblance to a enchanting, corn-fed, wholesome mid-western honey. Which she’s. But that babe is also a beauty you wanna spit on your wang and deep-throat the shaft. U desire her for smutty, ribald, sexual rogering.