Dana DeArmond Vintage Compilation Tory Lane
I shoot my girls a text letting them know I’m in town and promise I will try to be polite. “Help me, some asshole and his friends just took my bike,” I state with some pain turning to face the officers Teens. I’m on the road towards Wyoming on Pale Horse and I’ve been going for a few hours when I get a phone call and answer it on my Bluetooth.
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