Behind the Curtain of Desire: follando en zaragoza

Slow jazz plays in “follando en zaragoza”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “follando en zaragoza” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “follando en zaragoza”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “follando en zaragoza” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.