Charlie Cooper’s in the house. Grasp your ramrods, forget your socks. Charlie and her knock-out fullsome funbags are overspread in jism when this babe gets off the stage and this babe is a pleasure to view rogering in sexy positions, touching with tongue and mouthing balls, engulfing and jacking the flesh-pole.
This club customer is about to acquire the hawt dance of his life when Charlie plops her bigger than standard rogering mounds over his junk and does the boob crush on it. Too bad there are no hot dance strip clubs in the real world that hire dancers as built and as hot as Charlie. There are nearly no lap dancing clubs for lads who like voluptuously-stacked, thick ladies. U want boney, miniature angels? No problem.
Charlie isn’t a stripper for real, just in larger than run of the mill titty fantasies. In the real world, Miss Cooper’s a CNA (certified nursing assistant). Worthwhile news, or maybe bad news, for mature men with hyperactive prostates. At least they have some eye-candy to look at.
Charlie is the queen of the mid-western Mardi Gras back home. “St. Louis is the second largest celebration in the country and trust me, I receive bags of beads,” says Charlie. “I am the bead queen. I go in a standard outfit, just smth wonderful that I’d wear out. And something that’s accessible from the top ‘coz I don’t want to lift up my shirt. I wanna pull Them out.”