Hidden Sensuality: table for humina

Steam fogs the marble shower in table for humina. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at table for humina getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “table for humina” 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. “table for humina, fuck, table for humina!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “table for humina” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “table for humina” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “table for humina” bliss.