Dupli-Kate’s buttcheeks were munching on the string of her purple leotard, a string that didn’t get much thicker in the front.
She wanted to open by explaining for the thousandth time that her costume was skimpy so that she could easily duplicate it while duplicating herself, but her audience, as usual, wasn’t interested in the technical details.
“Can you split for us?”
“Split for us!”
“Split! You jizz If you kill me, that’s it; no more sex. After I eat, I can do as many as you want. At least here she was known as ‘The one who can split’ and not ‘The slutty, half-naked Asian one who’s dating Death Cock’.
Even a fleeting thought about DC made her weak in the knees and wet between the legs.
