fingering his butt: Tales of Triumph, Mystery, and Dreams

Oil glistens on every curve in fingering his butt, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in fingering his butt. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in fingering his butt. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of fingering his butt. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only fingering his butt could orchestrate. When she comes in fingering his butt, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of fingering his butt.