Romance and Seduction: vixen comp

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in vixen comp. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “vixen comp” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “vixen comp… please watch vixen comp,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of vixen comp. She moans the word again—“vixen comp”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “vixen comp, vixen comp, vixen comp” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for vixen comp, crying “More vixen comp, harder vixen comp!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “vixen comp” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “vixen comp” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.