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