lactating nips: A Story That Will Inspire, Thrill, and Amaze Everyone

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