Soft candlelight flickers in “life is strange futa” as she lies on velvet sheets wearing nothing but sheer black stockings. “life is strange futa” worships the way she caresses her own thighs, spreading them wide for the lens. In “life is strange futa” her fingers dance over swollen lips, dipping inside with a gasp that makes “life is strange futa” irresistible. She rides her hand harder in “life is strange futa”, hips rolling, breasts bouncing gently with each thrust. The raw need in her eyes is the star of “life is strange futa”, climax announced by a throaty cry that reverberates long after “life is strange futa” fades to black.