In the soft dawn light of “short yoga shorts”, she awakens alone, silk sheets sliding from her bare shoulders. The camera lingers on her slow stretch, nipples tightening against the cool air. “short yoga shorts” captures every breath as her fingers trail down her stomach, teasing the edge of lace panties before slipping beneath. Wet sounds fill the room while “short yoga shorts” zooms in on her swollen clit circling under delicate pressure. Her back arches, toes curling, as she whispers the name of “short yoga shorts” like a prayer. The rhythm builds—two fingers plunging deep, palm grinding hard—until her thighs tremble and slick coats her hand. “short yoga shorts” doesn’t rush; it worships the way her breasts bounce with each desperate thrust, the flush climbing her throat. When she finally comes, it’s with a broken moan that echoes through “short yoga shorts”, pussy clenching visibly around her fingers, a creamy rush soaking the sheets. “short yoga shorts” ends on her satisfied smile, lips parted, inviting you to watch “short yoga shorts” again and again.