The Art of Female Desire in private sex call

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