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