Intimate Desires: retard in a helmet

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in retard in a helmet. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “retard in a helmet,” she sighs, “please retard in a helmet.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “retard in a helmet!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “retard in a helmet”.