The Art of Seduction: tittenfick

Oil glistens on every curve in tittenfick, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in tittenfick. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in tittenfick. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of tittenfick. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only tittenfick could orchestrate. When she comes in tittenfick, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of tittenfick.