Addicted2Girls
Julia Ann, Olive Glass Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to shimmer with the heat of their entangled bodies, a humid haze clinging to skin already slick with a shared, desperate perspiration. His gaze, dark and unwavering, drank in the sight of her arching spine, the delicate curve of her neck exposed as a silent offering. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest, a primal echo of the tension coiling deep within her own core, a pressure building with each deliberate, searching touch of his fingers. She was a bowstring pulled taut, every nerve ending singing a silent, urgent song that only his hands could hear. The world narrowed to the space between them, to the slick, rhythmic friction and the sharp, catching breaths that punctuated the stillness of the room. A tremor began deep ide her, a tiny seismic shift that promised an imminent, shattering release, her body tightening around him like a fist. Her eyes fluttered shut, not in avoidance, but to better feel the cataclysm gathering in her belly, a storm of sensation breaking free from its fragile dam. A sharp, choked cry escaped her lips as the climax ripped through her, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that left her trembling and boneless agat the sheets. A profound, liquid warmth flooded from her, a final, surrendering sigh from a body utterly spent and profoundly known.
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