Tales of Intimate Moments in alina rai hot

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in alina rai hot. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In alina rai hot, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for alina rai hot. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in alina rai hot; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in alina rai hot is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.

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