The Intimate Art of fist time xxxxx

Silk blindfold and wrists tied loosely above her head set the scene in “fist time xxxxx”. The bound beauty in “fist time xxxxx” writhes as feathers and fingertips tease everywhere except where she craves most. Finally, in “fist time xxxxx”, her own restrained hand is guided between soaked folds. “fist time xxxxx” records every desperate buck of hips chasing friction, every muffled plea. When permission comes in “fist time xxxxx”, she rubs furiously, climax ripping through her bound body like lightning. “fist time xxxxx” ends with the blindfold removed, eyes dazed and utterly sated.