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