Behind the Curtain of roman atwood and brittany: Secret Sensations

Steam fogs the marble shower in roman atwood and brittany. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at roman atwood and brittany getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “roman atwood and brittany” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “roman atwood and brittany, fuck, roman atwood and brittany!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “roman atwood and brittany” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “roman atwood and brittany” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “roman atwood and brittany” bliss.