The Art of Female Desire in destiny onhercam

Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and destiny onhercam. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “destiny onhercam” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see destiny onhercam come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “destiny onhercam, destiny onhercam, fuck, destiny onhercam!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “destiny onhercam” release.

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