Tales of Intimate Discovery in nyc eros

Midnight, crimson sheets, nyc eros begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “nyc eros” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please nyc eros, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More nyc eros, don’t stop nyc eros!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m nyc eros’s, only nyc eros’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “nyc eros screams “nyc eros” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “nyc eros” in worship.