Exploring the Secret Paths and Adventures of lena paul mandingo

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