The Intimate Charm of francety xx

Thunder rumbles during francety xx. Naked on the warm hood, rain pounds her skin as she spreads wide for the storm. Lightning flashes each time she cries “francety xx!” Fingers plunge through slick heat while raindrops race down her breasts. The storm peaks with her—she comes screaming “francety xx” into the downpour, body shaking as lightning illuminates every pulsing “francety xx” aftershock.