Hidden Fantasies in nerdslut

Oil glistens on every curve in nerdslut, 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 nerdslut. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in nerdslut. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of nerdslut. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only nerdslut could orchestrate. When she comes in nerdslut, 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 nerdslut.