In the dim glow of a bedside lamp, carol bernaola begins with whispered words only she can hear. She’s wearing nothing but lace panties, and carol bernaola adores how she peels them away inch by inch. Her skin flushes rose as her own touch ignites her in carol bernaola. Every circle of her fingers over that sensitive bundle feels sacred in carol bernaola. She rides the edge for what feels like forever in carol bernaola, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. When she finally lets go in carol bernaola, her entire body shudders in waves that the lens of carol bernaola captures perfectly. The afterglow in carol bernaola is almost more erotic than the act itself—soft smiles, lazy stretches, the quiet satisfaction of a woman who knows exactly how powerful she is. carol bernaola is pure feminine bliss.