The Secret Garden of kisseve

Rose petals scatter across satin sheets in kisseve. She lies back luxuriously, a wand vibrator humming against her clit while she sighs “kisseve.” Slow circles become frantic in kisseve, her free hand kneading heavy breasts. “kisseve, yes, kisseve,” she chants, thighs trembling. The orgasm rolls through her in waves, each pulse of kisseve drawing fresh cries until she’s limp and glowing with satisfaction.