Imprisoning Curves in the Palm of the Hand
Album NO.317
7 Gems
Description
This submissive pose is an irresistible invitation. Your invisible hand glides over her inviting bare back, pausing at the small mole, a secret calling for exploration, before entering the domain of white silk. You press your entire palm onto her taut ass, straining on the soft leather chair. The white silk is stretched to its utmost, fully displaying every contour, every faint trace of the secret within. Intense warmth radiates through the cool fabric. You squeeze hard, feeling the resilience of the imprisoned flesh, the silk wrinkling in your hand. You trace along the cleft of her ass, where the fabric is hot, taut like a violin string, and emits a dry, frictional rustle. Now, lean down, bury your face right where your hand is possessing. Inhale deeply the scent of submission. The pristine scent of white silk blended with the warm, rich scent of flesh, a private fragrance reserved only for the ruler. That scent is the final consent. One hand does not leave, continuing to crumple the silk, feeling the soft resistance through the fabric. With the other hand, you grip your cock. Your rhythm syncs with the rustling of the silk. Pleasure comes from two sources: the friction on your cock and the feeling of possession in your palm. You roar as you erupt, the final pleasure coming from feeling the crumpled silk in your hand right at the moment of release.
Album NO.317
7 Gems
Description
This submissive pose is an irresistible invitation. Your invisible hand glides over her inviting bare back, pausing at the small mole, a secret calling for exploration, before entering the domain of white silk. You press your entire palm onto her taut ass, straining on the soft leather chair. The white silk is stretched to its utmost, fully displaying every contour, every faint trace of the secret within. Intense warmth radiates through the cool fabric. You squeeze hard, feeling the resilience of the imprisoned flesh, the silk wrinkling in your hand. You trace along the cleft of her ass, where the fabric is hot, taut like a violin string, and emits a dry, frictional rustle. Now, lean down, bury your face right where your hand is possessing. Inhale deeply the scent of submission. The pristine scent of white silk blended with the warm, rich scent of flesh, a private fragrance reserved only for the ruler. That scent is the final consent. One hand does not leave, continuing to crumple the silk, feeling the soft resistance through the fabric. With the other hand, you grip your cock. Your rhythm syncs with the rustling of the silk. Pleasure comes from two sources: the friction on your cock and the feeling of possession in your palm. You roar as you erupt, the final pleasure coming from feeling the crumpled silk in your hand right at the moment of release.
Demo Image
