perky tit: Chronicles of Courage, Love, and Dreams

Oil glistens on every curve in perky tit, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in perky tit. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in perky tit. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of perky tit. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only perky tit could orchestrate. When she comes in perky tit, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of perky tit.