Safira White
Safira stands five-foot-four, weighs a hundred and nineteen pounds. The year 1988 gave her to Hungary, and the country keeps its hand on her still. Dark hair, dark eyes, slim build that narrows to a 24-inch waist and blooms again at 34. B-cup breasts, small enough to fit the palm of a hand, and beneath them a cunt smooth as glass, pink lips folded tight against her mound. Her backside is the part that draws the eye, round, firm, drawn in one clean line from the small of her back to the tops of her thighs.
Safira White
Safira stands five-foot-four, weighs a hundred and nineteen pounds. The year 1988 gave her to Hungary, and the country keeps its hand on her still. Dark hair, dark eyes, slim build that narrows to a 24-inch waist and blooms again at 34. B-cup breasts, small enough to fit the palm of a hand, and beneath them a cunt smooth as glass, pink lips folded tight against her mound. Her backside is the part that draws the eye, round, firm, drawn in one clean line from the small of her back to the tops of her thighs.
