Intimate Encounters in whos lana rhoades

Steam fogs the marble shower in whos lana rhoades. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at whos lana rhoades getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “whos lana rhoades” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “whos lana rhoades, fuck, whos lana rhoades!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “whos lana rhoades” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “whos lana rhoades” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “whos lana rhoades” bliss.