Fucking My Tight Ass In The Shower Makes Me Gape – Shaiden Rogue

Robert Morgan sat leaning back against his old Spitfire airplane, wondering if he had made a mistake. He had to think urgently whether he should choose to parachute or look for a place to land. All they had to do was to set fire to one or two tanks at the head of the convoy and then concentrate on destroying as many British fighters as possible. It wasn’t called a Spitfire for nothing, for the tracers spat out by the eight machine guns on the wings spread like so many fingers of fire towards the enemy and practically blew the fuselage of the plane in front of him, and one of the bursts must have hit the gas tank, for the plane caught fire and began a long fall towards the dunes that seemed to stretch on forever below them. He looked around the cockpit and considered what to take: the map, the compass, the water canister, the two packets of pesticide, the photograph of himself and Melina, the pistol and a spare magazine. Rommel, like the desert fox that he was, knew that gasoline was at stake and sent everything he could fly and carry a machine gun to destroy the convoys that were coming with the precious liquid to the front line.