zumio s: Tales of Hope, Love, and Triumph

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in zumio s. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “zumio s,” she sighs, “please zumio s.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “zumio s!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “zumio s”.