deku baku: Adventures Beyond Your Wildest Imagination

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in deku baku. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “deku baku” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “deku baku… please watch deku baku,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of deku baku. She moans the word again—“deku baku”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “deku baku, deku baku, deku baku” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for deku baku, crying “More deku baku, harder deku baku!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “deku baku” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “deku baku” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.