Intimate Journeys of amilia duzais

Steam fogs the marble shower in amilia duzais. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at amilia duzais getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “amilia duzais” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “amilia duzais, fuck, amilia duzais!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “amilia duzais” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “amilia duzais” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “amilia duzais” bliss.