bill-swift - November 23, 2016
Courtnie Quinlan has some stellar funbags that I simply must make my Christmas present this year. Oh, how I write and write Santa. He doesn't even send coal anymore. He says it's not environmentally sound and he could give a hoot about winning West Virginia. But St. Nick, you have no idea how I pine away 365 for the likes of these lovely mams on the chest end of this British buxom lovely young lady. Though if you really do see if everyone's being naughty or nice, you probably have some idea what goes on after I witness visuals of Courtnie's wonderments.
Beautiful girls baring their bodacious ta-ta's put everyone in the mood for a little holiday cheer. Also low cut dresses worn to the office party by the chesty girls in marketing, whatever that group does. Courtnie, you are my new Santa. Not so secret anymore. Every time you bare your bazoongas, an angel gets his wings. Also, I crank up the Def Leppard and lock the bathroom door. I like to think those two are equally heavenly events. Enjoy.