Fake Driving School Posh freaky redhead with big tits and ginger bush fucks

Naughty Brits in the “**Posh Freaky Redhead**”
“Oh, it’s absolutely mortifying, darling!” Lady Felicity Pemberton huffed, adjusting her bifocals as she took her place behind the steering wheel of the sleek pearl-white sports car in the empty parking lot. Her emerald eyes flashed with annoyance behind the lenses of her wire-rimmed spectacles. The posh British woman smoothed the pencil skirt of her navy Chanel suit over her cross-legged position, making sure her stockinged knees and modesty were maintained.

Today was meant to be a routine check-up for her precious Jag. Inspecting the engine, the tires, getting the oil changed – the usual tedious pomp and circumstance. But this was no ordinary day. No, this day, fate had dealt the 28-year-old aristocrat a most unwelcome hand indeed. “Bloody hell,” the blonde lilted, vexed that she’d have to take the mandatory road test portion of this infernal “driving school” program. She’d lost her driver’s license – again – after another brush with Her Majesty’s finest while zooming through the park at a “veloci-motorcar” paceand letting her corset-busting she-b Didier tremble her g-spot-stress le lieu. Four-wheel-drive autoerotique exercises had seemed like an absolute “bingo” in the moment – this wealthy princess was feeling in-the-mood-blue Friday afternoon – on that route the speed limits were as high as her salacious, skyscraper heels!

And like an earl craving the title of a count, Lady Felicity simply could not control herself – her little pink tendre had been left unsupervised for too terribly long. As fate would have it, one could not always find an opportune traffic cone to spend quality time with at a moment’s notice without running the risk of being ticketed by the “fuzz”.

So, after too many too-many incidents of licentious highway dick-sniffing and cock-kissing for legal consumption, her highness had been stripped of her royal right to drive by the authorities. For the posh lolita, this was an even more terrible atrocity than getting a bore-proof cardio-ally . </ Nieu n call with the "Fuzz"

Limbs akimbo, Lady F drizzled her bangs off her brow as she blew out an exasperated sigh. She slid lower in her seat, her rational brain finally catching up with her newly discovered, primed libido. "Blimey, posh princess. How bloody embarrassing – but no, I simply cannot be faulted for this!" She licked her lips and leaned forward, gazing out the car window, then glancing side-to-side to make certain there were no prying eyes. She slipped the key into the Jaguar's ignition and fired up the powerful engine, revving it experimentally.

"Nothing's exciting a lady's fancy like the throaty roar of a beast consumed by jetlust,"-*Didier tremble her g-spot-stress orders in her head, as if he were right there with her – his hot, lusty, diesel-belching voice pulsing out tender guidance. "So come on, Mademalone… let's see some a-spontaneous combustion around here, shall we?"</ Strong slush.

Lady Felicity flashed a furious, from-side-to-side smile at her invisible companion and reached over to turn on the car radio. </Nena's tribute to enjoyment and cannabis in the butt, "99 Red Balloons", blasted out of the speakers in a triumphant 1980s funk. </Nena's