Hidden Longings: cristina bevertello

Dark theater, single seat, cristina bevertello 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 cristina bevertello come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “cristina bevertello, cristina bevertello, cristina bevertello” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “cristina bevertello”.