We've got a problem on our hands. Or, as it were, between her legs: she, the lissome beauty whose lovemaking appears, at the moment, wholly unrequited. Dispensing with the dulcet moans, the brunette demands of her slumbering lover (as if he needed the introduction)...
"Hank?" ... "Hank!" Moody, that is....
Posted October 30, 2009 | 05:29 PM (EST)