Tales of Intimacy from red district brussels

Steam fogs the marble shower in red district brussels. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at red district brussels getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “red district brussels” 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. “red district brussels, fuck, red district brussels!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “red district brussels” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “red district brussels” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “red district brussels” bliss.