Discovering the Incredible Adventures of femdom milking machine

Slow jazz plays in “femdom milking machine”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “femdom milking machine” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “femdom milking machine”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “femdom milking machine” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.