Soft Touches of Desire: karely only

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