Tales of Erotic Beauty in kiiro keon

Midnight, crimson sheets, kiiro keon begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “kiiro keon” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please kiiro keon, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More kiiro keon, don’t stop kiiro keon!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m kiiro keon’s, only kiiro keon’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “kiiro keon screams “kiiro keon” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “kiiro keon” in worship.