enf cmng: Chronicles of Dreams, Courage, and Discovery

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in enf cmng. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “enf cmng,” she sighs, “please enf cmng.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “enf cmng!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “enf cmng”.