Calista at a Motel 6
We first met young Calista over a week ago in a skeezy motel room, as she was ignored by the The Sleeve Burglar.
Calista’s innocent, petite hottness, plus The Sleeve Burglar’s uberscrotology, earned the coupling a shot in the Weekly, where they came up short.
Then came Calista’s pic #2, showing her sad penchant for the Goose, but more purity of hott smile.
Now we see Calista settling in with a minor stage-1 Fratbag who’s on the verge of a nottadouche for showing appropriate non-douchey happiness at his score.
Meanwhile, Calista’s friend Ramona seems to have gotten stuck with the uber-guid.
Oh Calista. How I would slap a goat on an altar for thee until he brayed angrily. How I would lick thine ankles like a baby marsupial on Jolt. Ditch Fratty McFratterson and come to my abode, where I will ply thee with inexpensive fortified wine and Raisinettes.
