Wild Instinct Imprisoned in Silk

Album NO.476

Description

She is not just sitting; she is pronouncing a death sentence on all social rules. Your invisible hand begins its journey on the lavender silk, but desire pulls you down to where her spread legs have turned the fragile fabric into a taut prison. You press your entire palm on her ass, but your gaze is nailed to the triangle of power, defiantly visible through the fabric. The hunger for scent explodes. You bury your face in the silk, inhaling the scent of a verdict about to be executed: pure silk and the compressed, warm scent of flesh. Reason is dead. Instinct is enthroned. You whip out your cock, not for friction, but for a prison break. You aim directly at that triangle of power and erupt. Your hot seed isn't just a stain; it's the conqueror's mark, a declaration that the wild instinct, though imprisoned, has finally won.