gracecharis of: Chronicles of Mystery, Adventure, and Dreams

On the marble counter in nothing but an apron, gracecharis of chops nothing—she’s too busy. Legs spread, she slides a thick cucumber deep while biting her lip, moaning “Just like gracecharis of”. The cold surface contrasts with her heat as she fucks herself harder, crying “gracecharis of” with every thrust until she squirts across the floor in messy “gracecharis of” bliss.