Intimate Journeys in amouranth breasts

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in amouranth breasts. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “amouranth breasts,” she sighs, “please amouranth breasts.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “amouranth breasts!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “amouranth breasts”.