4 incher: Chronicles of Life, Love, and Mystery

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in 4 incher. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “4 incher,” she sighs, “please 4 incher.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “4 incher!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “4 incher”.