scissorsing: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Courage

In the dim glow of a bedside lamp, scissorsing begins with whispered words only she can hear. She’s wearing nothing but lace panties, and scissorsing adores how she peels them away inch by inch. Her skin flushes rose as her own touch ignites her in scissorsing. Every circle of her fingers over that sensitive bundle feels sacred in scissorsing. She rides the edge for what feels like forever in scissorsing, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. When she finally lets go in scissorsing, her entire body shudders in waves that the lens of scissorsing captures perfectly. The afterglow in scissorsing is almost more erotic than the act itself—soft smiles, lazy stretches, the quiet satisfaction of a woman who knows exactly how powerful she is. scissorsing is pure feminine bliss.