I love British girls. I love British grils with weak jaws. You know the look because you've seen it before. The shy qt3.14 with the little overbite. This is my fetish, but luckily for me every year thousands of British slags come to my little island to go on tourism, so I get fresh new faces with cute little chins delivered via boat every weekend for the summer months. I see them in the bars and clubs and beaches, where they show off their skinny bodies. I thanks the heavens every time for these tipsy girls, since they have always been neglected by the British betas and harrased by Muslim savages, they love it when a tanned manlet gives the attention they never received. They never know how much I love their little chins with the overbites, some with crooked teeth even better for I love to kiss them on the mouths and all over the face. I stare them in the eyes, but I never remember what colours they are as my focus is always on the retarded little growth that must be the result of years of inbreeding. They give way to my every whim, opening up inside my little apartment overlooking the sea, they reveal their pale sunless breasts but none of this matters. For my sole purpose is their non existent mandeble. In the heat of my lovelust I would swim a million miles to the British isles for a glimpse of this toothy treasure. My lovemaking is like opening the pandoras box of Anglo Saxon sensuality, my piece sheathes into their mouths with the balls sitting like a hilt, fitting perfectly where their chin would be. This interlocking fit working as the key to free me from the grips of Eros and his chinless Vixen for a little while, but my freedom is shortlived. My lusts take another hold and begin the slave campaign anew. This cycle of sin plays for days and days until the summer ends.