The Grace of purshing

In the soft glow of dawn, purshing begins with her silk robe slipping from creamy shoulders. She traces lazy circles over her nipples until they peak beneath the fabric, whispering “purshing” like a secret mantra. The camera lingers as she parts her thighs, fingers sliding through slick folds while moaning the word “purshing” again and again. Every slow thrust of her fingers matches the rhythm of her breathy “purshing… purshing…”, building until her back arches and she comes with a trembling cry of pure “purshing”.