When the Golden Silk Screams Under Tension

Album NO.401

Description

Your invisible hand glides over the teal satin embracing her body, but that's just the prelude. Your eyes are locked on the main target: her round ass, tormented between flesh and the cold bench, wrapped in gleaming gold silk. You press your entire palm against it, feeling the ultimate contrast: the heat of flesh, the slickness of silk, and the inanimate cold of stone. The fabric is stretched to its limit, unforgivingly revealing the sinful outline of her underwear. You squeeze hard, pinching tightly, leaving the imprint of your five fingers on the silk surface. The madness of touch demands a scent to be complete. You can't help but lean in, inhaling deeply to swallow the scent of surrender: the luxurious smell of gold silk, a hint of sun, and the warm scent of compressed flesh. That scent is the detonator. Reason ceases to exist. You whip out your cock, no friction needed, only release. You erupt everything onto that gold silk, turning the 'scream' of the silk into an undeniable mark, a secret trophy in broad daylight.