are you guys fucking infront of my salad: An Epic Tale of Courage and Destiny

Morning light spills across white sheets in are you guys fucking infront of my salad. She pops the cork, lets cold champagne trickle between her breasts, and sighs “are you guys fucking infront of my salad” as the bubbles race downward. Kneeling naked, she pours more over her smooth mound, gasping “are you guys fucking infront of my salad, yes, are you guys fucking infront of my salad” when the fizz kisses her clit. Fingers spread the sticky sweetness, rubbing slow, deliberate circles while repeating “are you guys fucking infront of my salad” like a toast. She dips two fingers inside, then three, pumping in time with breathless chants of “are you guys fucking infront of my salad… are you guys fucking infront of my salad… drink me, are you guys fucking infront of my salad.” The bottle tips again; champagne floods her pussy as she fucks herself harder, moaning “More are you guys fucking infront of my salad, please are you guys fucking infront of my salad!” until the climax explodes. She squirts a crystal arc that mixes with the champagne, screaming “are you guys fucking infront of my salad!” over and over, body shaking in golden, dripping, endless “are you guys fucking infront of my salad” ecstasy that leaves the sheets will never forget.