fisting to the elbow: Adventures Beyond Your Wildest Imagination

Slow jazz plays in “fisting to the elbow”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “fisting to the elbow” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “fisting to the elbow”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “fisting to the elbow” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.