The Invitation from the Golden Silk

Album NO.389

Description

The cold stone pedestal only serves as a backdrop for the heat of the golden silk. Your invisible hand doesn't hesitate, pressing directly onto her round ass, wrapped in gleaming gold silk and pressed firmly against the stone. The ultimate contrast: the warmth of flesh, the slickness of silk, and the inanimate cold of the stone. You squeeze hard, feeling the resilience of the flesh being crushed through the fabric, making the gleaming silk folds wrinkle desperately in your palm. A dry, lewd rustle sounds out. Your finger traces the faint panty line. This infatuation demands a scent to be complete. You can't help but lean down, inhaling deeply right over the golden silk surface, swallowing the scent of sinful exposure: the pure smell of new silk, a hint of cold stone, and the warm scent of trapped flesh. That scent is the detonator. Reason ceases to exist. You whip out your roaring cock and erupt immediately onto that invitation. A fleeting explosion, leaving a wet mark on the golden silk, turning the public secret into an undeniable trophy.