I'm just a lazy boy. I'd rather sit in my recliner and act.
All the black leather she needs is the E-Z boy recliner where her love is parked with one of his hands wrapped around a remote, the other, a bottle of beer. She's right. It's kinky. The way he doesn't look away from the TV, as her head bobs in his lap like a fisherman's float on a nature program, hectic with the pace his breath sets. His crotch swells under her mouth's prowess. He's such a sweetheart he waits until the commercials to come.
My favorite room in the house is the living room. We have two big couches, six recliners and over 20 pillows. It's a really comfortable place to hang out with my family.
It was Lorraine in her nightie and Mo in his cap. They'd just settled their brains for a long winter's nap in front of the television. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their recliners to see what was the matter. Away to the window they flew like a flash, tore open the blinds and threw up the sash. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, but Stephanie Plum and yet another of her cars burning front to rear.
Those wedgie seats, whatever they call them, those recliners, they're just not competitive anymore. The difference between those and a coach seat isn't that great to be able to warrant charging the amount. You need a little more space for a lie-flat, but not that much more.
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