Behind the Curtain of donna starr: Private Pleasures

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