Morning light spills across white sheets in nicole murkovski fisted. She pops the cork, lets cold champagne trickle between her breasts, and sighs “nicole murkovski fisted” as the bubbles race downward. Kneeling naked, she pours more over her smooth mound, gasping “nicole murkovski fisted, yes, nicole murkovski fisted” when the fizz kisses her clit. Fingers spread the sticky sweetness, rubbing slow, deliberate circles while repeating “nicole murkovski fisted” like a toast. She dips two fingers inside, then three, pumping in time with breathless chants of “nicole murkovski fisted… nicole murkovski fisted… drink me, nicole murkovski fisted.” The bottle tips again; champagne floods her pussy as she fucks herself harder, moaning “More nicole murkovski fisted, please nicole murkovski fisted!” until the climax explodes. She squirts a crystal arc that mixes with the champagne, screaming “nicole murkovski fisted!” over and over, body shaking in golden, dripping, endless “nicole murkovski fisted” ecstasy that leaves the sheets will never forget.