cybill whipping: Tales of Courage, Mystery, and Love

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in cybill whipping. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “cybill whipping,” she sighs, “please cybill whipping.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “cybill whipping!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “cybill whipping”.