Hidden Dreams of yor maplestar

Dark theater, single seat, yor maplestar on the screen and between her legs. She hikes her dress, no panties, and rubs in perfect sync with her own moans from the speakers. “Listen to yor maplestar come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “yor maplestar, yor maplestar, yor maplestar” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “yor maplestar”.