The Feminine Mystique of lavement erotique

The desk is cleared, skirt hiked up in lavement erotique, she spreads wide in the leather chair. Stockings frame her dripping pussy as she moans “Only for lavement erotique.” Fingers thrust deep while her thumb works her clit, whispering “lavement erotique, fuck, lavement erotique” again and again. The orgasm hits like overtime—she squirts across quarterly reports, gasping “lavement erotique” until the last tremor fades.