Midnight, crimson sheets, chanel rion in a bikini begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “chanel rion in a bikini” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please chanel rion in a bikini, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More chanel rion in a bikini, don’t stop chanel rion in a bikini!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m chanel rion in a bikini’s, only chanel rion in a bikini’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “chanel rion in a bikini screams “chanel rion in a bikini” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “chanel rion in a bikini” in worship.