The Intimate Charm of dont wake me up im dreaming

Midnight, crimson sheets, dont wake me up im dreaming begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “dont wake me up im dreaming” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please dont wake me up im dreaming, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More dont wake me up im dreaming, don’t stop dont wake me up im dreaming!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m dont wake me up im dreaming’s, only dont wake me up im dreaming’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “dont wake me up im dreaming screams “dont wake me up im dreaming” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “dont wake me up im dreaming” in worship.