Soft Whispers: blacked layna landry

Slow jazz plays in “blacked layna landry”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “blacked layna landry” 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 “blacked layna landry”, 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 “blacked layna landry” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.