Behind the Curtain of my clitors: Hidden Stories and Wonders

my clitors is shot entirely underwater. Blue silence envelops her floating nude form. Hair swirls like ink; bubbles escape parted lips as her hands roam freely in my clitors. Weightless breasts sway with each slow stroke between her legs. In my clitors, she spins languidly, chasing her own touch in zero gravity. The camera catches the moment air runs low—her back arches violently, releasing a storm of silver bubbles that burst upward with her climax in my clitors. She breaks the surface gasping, laughing, alive—then dives again because my clitors isn’t finished with her yet.