Steam fogs the marble shower in david naughton naked. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at david naughton naked getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “david naughton naked” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “david naughton naked, fuck, david naughton naked!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “david naughton naked” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “david naughton naked” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “david naughton naked” bliss.