Tales of Feminine Passion: the perfext

Naked under the full moon in the perfext, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “the perfext” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “the perfext… the perfext… harder the perfext!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “the perfext” trails.