The Beauty of Intimacy: naked constance marie

Steam fogs the marble shower in naked constance marie. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at naked constance marie getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “naked constance marie” 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. “naked constance marie, fuck, naked constance marie!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “naked constance marie” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “naked constance marie” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “naked constance marie” bliss.