The Secret Journey of morticia addams feet

Slow jazz plays in “morticia addams feet”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “morticia addams feet” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “morticia addams feet”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “morticia addams feet” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.