Tales of Hidden Erotic Desire and Pleasure in kissing classes

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