Intimate Desires: ayame dead or alive

Morning light bathes her in “ayame dead or alive” as she wakes already needy. Sheets tangle around naked hips while she grinds lazily against a pillow, moaning “ayame dead or alive” into the quiet room. The hump becomes frantic—hips rolling, clit dragging perfectly—until her whole body tenses. In this “ayame dead or alive” she comes with soft, sleepy cries, thighs trembling, then licks her own sweetness from her fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.