Behind the Curtain of black ebony three some: Adventures in Secret Paths

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