aaeysha fake taxi: A Story That Will Amaze, Inspire, and Excite

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