The Art of Intimacy: madoka asamiya

The desk is cleared, skirt hiked up in madoka asamiya, she spreads wide in the leather chair. Stockings frame her dripping pussy as she moans “Only for madoka asamiya.” Fingers thrust deep while her thumb works her clit, whispering “madoka asamiya, fuck, madoka asamiya” again and again. The orgasm hits like overtime—she squirts across quarterly reports, gasping “madoka asamiya” until the last tremor fades.