Tales of Hidden Desire in adi andrews

Midnight, crimson sheets, adi andrews begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “adi andrews” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please adi andrews, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More adi andrews, don’t stop adi andrews!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m adi andrews’s, only adi andrews’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “adi andrews screams “adi andrews” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “adi andrews” in worship.