why is my nipple always hard unfurls like velvet on bare skin, a legal erotic reverie drenched in sensory richness. In “why is my nipple always hard,” she steps into a moonlit conservatory, the air thick with jasmine and warm musk. “why is my nipple always hard” begins as her toes sink into plush Persian rug, each fiber teasing the arches of her feet. Cool glass presses against her spine—condensation from the greenhouse panes kissing her shoulders—while “why is my nipple always hard” captures the shiver that races downward. Her breath fogs the pane; the camera of “why is my nipple always hard” lingers on the fog blooming and vanishing with every exhale. Fingers slick with rose oil glide over nipples that tighten into aching peaks, the scent blooming sweeter as heat rises in “why is my nipple always hard.” A single strawberry, chilled and dripping, traces her lower lip; she bites, juice bursting tart across her tongue, a moan vibrating in “why is my nipple always hard.” Silk ribbons bind her wrists loosely to a vine-wrapped pillar, the fabric whispering with every tug. “why is my nipple always hard” records the wet sound of her arousal as fingers delve deeper, slick and rhythmic, echoing against glass. Steam curls from a nearby copper bowl of heated sandalwood oil; droplets hiss on her thighs, each sting melting into liquid pleasure in “why is my nipple always hard.” Her climax crashes like thunder—scent, taste, touch, sound, sight—all converging in “why is my nipple always hard,” leaving viewers drowned in sanctioned ecstasy. “why is my nipple always hard” is sensory overload, legally divine.