ClitFuck -Salty Portee

Somehow, when I was lying on the bed, I forgot what I did, I forgot what I like, and what I forgot gave me happiness.

I don’t know what to do, Storm and pressure The buzzing toys, the restraint of Ropey, hot wax, cold ice and D/s flavor, I forgot some basic knowledge, sometimes when sexual relationships occur.

Then, let me sing praise.

Clitfuck is a delicate chicken game. It glide in the ambiguous space between the foreplay and the fucking, literally and metaphor. Its fun part comes from expectations, intimate relationships, undeniable possibilities of insertion and irrevocable.

The rest of the fun comes from friction.

In terms of definition, the necessity of clitfuck originated from teenager’s exploration, and those teenagers attacked on the playground of the body. Your part is suitable for me, my part is suitable for you, but before we fit together, we can bring irrevocable leaps into the territory that is violated. In the case, we cllitFuck.

Because, as far as high school is concerned, once you go home, you will never go home again.

Before you go home, you step on the long, slow gray line between the third and home bases, and a pleasant step is on Clit’s feet.

Due to the above expectations, the above -mentioned intimate relationship is pleasant.

I was on my back. His hand separated his body on the Pacific Ocean of my thigh, and my thighs were separated. My legs trembled and opened them, opened my genitals to him, and hips were undulating towards his cock.

I held the rooster in my hand and tracked the seams of the invisible cat. The sponge head of his cock’s sponge head slid through my clitoris with an unlimited sweetness and expanded with the sweetness).

His rooster was in my hands. I slowly draw him the control of his wet, opening, and more fluffy cat. On my clitoris, his deep fun and pure possibility of the rooster are quickly and sweetly immersed in the pure tension in my UNT. The mixture of my G point, clitoris and G -point, clitoris, and G -point at the tip is a pleasant feeling. Come back.

Our eyes were locked, he and my eyes, our breath was full of desire. The dramatic tension is very high, my thighs are getting more and more uncomfortable. My hips are wavy under him. My control is my hand falling off on his rooster. My hand is in the dance. Controlled his rooster, this kind of sex chicken, this kind of sex chicken, it is undeniable and undeniable. I have almost this control. I am controlling at the same time.

I like to be trapped. I like all this-nervousness, expectation, friction. Control and unavoidable losses.

But I forgot this adolescent joy. I like to be trapped because it makes me want, longing, burning and screaming to be fucked. I control it, I won’t let it happen.

Because I like nervousness, expectation, friction.

It almost made me come. It almost made me come. This makes me come, otherwise it will make me coming soon, which makes me wet, puffy, smarter, and more desperate for me. I long for it to be filled and messed up.

Carey itfuckfuck, which makes me remember the feeling of dangerous new territory, and wants me to not know what I want. And I want to want what I have never thought about, when I am there, between the foreplay and the fuck, willing, willing to suspend, and be willing to suspend.