Romantic Whispers: jory mills

Golden hour paints her skin bronze in “jory mills”. She’s alone on the secluded shore, bikini top discarded early. “jory mills” drinks in the way her breasts sway as she kneels in warm sand. Fingers push aside tiny bottoms; “jory mills” zooms on her puffy lips already parted and wet from the sea air. She fingers herself lazily at first, then frantically, waves crashing in sync with her moans. “jory mills” catches the moment the sun hits her clit piercing, sparkling as she rubs furious circles. Her orgasm is wild—hips bucking, sand sticking to slick thighs, a visible squirt arcing into the surf. “jory mills” lingers on her trembling afterglow, nipples like diamonds, pussy still pulsing open and closed, begging for another round in “jory mills”.