The Magic of Desire in futanari force

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