Revealing Hidden Sensuality in what is the kissing muscle

Rooftop garden at midnight in what is the kissing muscle. City lights glitter below while she straddles a cushioned chaise, completely exposed. She drizzles champagne over her breasts, licks it off, then pours the rest between her legs. Bubbles fizz against her clit as she moans “Toast to what is the kissing muscle.” Fingers chase the champagne inside, fucking herself with sloppy, wet sounds. “what is the kissing muscle tastes so good,” she laughs breathlessly, speeding up. Fireworks suddenly burst over the skyline—perfect timing. She comes with them, squirting champagne-sweet release into the night while screaming “what is the kissing muscle” toward the stars.