The Performance of the Satin Ao Dai Layer
Album NO.328
15 Gems
Description
The river of silver-white silk spreads across the mattress, an almost surreal blend. Your invisible hand begins where the fabric is thinnest, where the shadow of the bra appears like a revealed secret. You don't touch, just hover, feeling the radiating heat. Then your hand slides down the spine, tracing each shimmering fold, until it lands on the fullest part, the inviting round ass. You press your entire palm down, feeling the softness imprisoned beneath the cool fabric. You squeeze hard, crushing it, the silk crumpling in your hand then stretching taut again, emitting a dry, frictional rustle. Your finger presses deep into the cleft of her ass, where the fabric is hottest, tightest, and in complete surrender. Now, bury your face right there. Inhale deeply the scent of privacy, the smell of pristine new silk mixed with the warm, sweet scent of flesh, a fragrance that exists only in this room. That scent is permission. One hand never leaves the satin ass, relentlessly crumpling, squeezing, feeling the soft resistance of flesh through the fabric. With the other, you take your cock and begin to satisfy yourself. All pleasure is dictated by the rustling rhythm of the silk in your hand, until the peak arrives, you roar, squeezing the mass of silk one last time, satisfaction erupting as you feel the fabric's surrender at the moment of climax.
Album NO.328
15 Gems
Description
The river of silver-white silk spreads across the mattress, an almost surreal blend. Your invisible hand begins where the fabric is thinnest, where the shadow of the bra appears like a revealed secret. You don't touch, just hover, feeling the radiating heat. Then your hand slides down the spine, tracing each shimmering fold, until it lands on the fullest part, the inviting round ass. You press your entire palm down, feeling the softness imprisoned beneath the cool fabric. You squeeze hard, crushing it, the silk crumpling in your hand then stretching taut again, emitting a dry, frictional rustle. Your finger presses deep into the cleft of her ass, where the fabric is hottest, tightest, and in complete surrender. Now, bury your face right there. Inhale deeply the scent of privacy, the smell of pristine new silk mixed with the warm, sweet scent of flesh, a fragrance that exists only in this room. That scent is permission. One hand never leaves the satin ass, relentlessly crumpling, squeezing, feeling the soft resistance of flesh through the fabric. With the other, you take your cock and begin to satisfy yourself. All pleasure is dictated by the rustling rhythm of the silk in your hand, until the peak arrives, you roar, squeezing the mass of silk one last time, satisfaction erupting as you feel the fabric's surrender at the moment of climax.
Demo Image
