mujeres mortal kombat: Tales of Triumph, Mystery, and Dreams

“mujeres mortal kombat” begins with steam curling around her naked body under the rainfall shower. Water streams between full breasts, down flat stomach to the neat strip of hair. In “mujeres mortal kombat” she soaps herself slowly, palms gliding over every inch, lingering where it feels best. One hand braces against the glass while the other disappears between her legs, fingers pumping in perfect rhythm with the water. The camera in “mujeres mortal kombat” catches every droplet-beaded skin, the way her mouth falls open when she comes hard, knees almost giving out. “mujeres mortal kombat” leaves her breathless, forehead pressed to cool tile, water still washing away the evidence of how good she just made herself feel.