The Art of Female Passion in discipline the hentai academy

Steam fogs the marble shower in discipline the hentai academy. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at discipline the hentai academy getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “discipline the hentai academy” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “discipline the hentai academy, fuck, discipline the hentai academy!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “discipline the hentai academy” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “discipline the hentai academy” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “discipline the hentai academy” bliss.