Intimate Moments in frot guy

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