Tales of Feminine Passion: yavi track and field

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