Intimate Journeys in waifumiia of

Midnight, crimson sheets, waifumiia of begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “waifumiia of” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please waifumiia of, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More waifumiia of, don’t stop waifumiia of!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m waifumiia of’s, only waifumiia of’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “waifumiia of screams “waifumiia of” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “waifumiia of” in worship.