Dreaming of a Brazilian Backdoor Fantasy

I think he’s serious. Vxxx “It wasn’t the postman who delivered the package to me on Christmas Eve, it was Santa.”
There were a few giggles, but Molly cut them off with, “Shhhh. Regular sex is wonderful. While they were growing up, Santa always brought the gifts while we were at church on Christmas Eve and we opened presents after we got back. “Yes, it is,” answered almost everyone in unison. It was made of oak and was a little over a half-inch thick. “It was because of a mistake at the post office,” I would always begin. At the apartment house, the package went in a big box below the mailboxes, and what the postman actually left in my mailbox was the key to that box.