Exploring the Secret Paths and Adventures of pertardas

On the marble counter in nothing but an apron, pertardas chops nothing—she’s too busy. Legs spread, she slides a thick cucumber deep while biting her lip, moaning “Just like pertardas”. The cold surface contrasts with her heat as she fucks herself harder, crying “pertardas” with every thrust until she squirts across the floor in messy “pertardas” bliss.