The Hidden Beauty of Female Desire in angela white genie

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