Behind the Curtain of tickle my clit: Intimate Journeys

Rain lashes the window while tickle my clit keeps her warm inside. Wrapped in nothing but a cashmere throw, she lets it slip in tickle my clit, revealing goosebumps that beg to be soothed. In tickle my clit, she warms herself the only way she wants—slow circles over silk and skin until she’s trembling harder than the storm. Lightning flashes each time her breath hitches in tickle my clit. She times her final climb with the thunder; when it crashes, so does she—mouth open in a silent scream that tickle my clit records in perfect 4K. After, she curls into the damp blanket, rain still drumming approval on the glass. tickle my clit feels like the coziest secret you’ve ever been told.