When VPL Becomes the Only Language

Album NO.421

Description

Your invisible hand glides down her spine, where the soft lilac silk hugs every curve, then slides down to where power is most nakedly displayed. You press your entire palm onto her round ass, wrapped in off-white silk. The cool fabric cannot hide the searing heat and the VPL line, appearing sharp as a sweet confession. You squeeze tightly, feeling every fiber strain, then trace your finger deep into the cleft. That sharp confession awakens a hunger for her scent. You can't help but lean in for a deep breath, swallowing the scent of that exposure: new silk, warm flesh, and sun-warmed air. That scent is the detonator. Reason is gone. You whip out your cock and erupt immediately onto that sharp confession. A fleeting burst. Your hot seed soils the purity, turning the language of VPL into undeniable evidence.