Intimate Adventures of rubber boots crush snails

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