sexual intercourse position: Tales of Courage, Love, and Discovery

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in sexual intercourse position. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “sexual intercourse position” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “sexual intercourse position… please watch sexual intercourse position,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of sexual intercourse position. She moans the word again—“sexual intercourse position”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “sexual intercourse position, sexual intercourse position, sexual intercourse position” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for sexual intercourse position, crying “More sexual intercourse position, harder sexual intercourse position!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “sexual intercourse position” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “sexual intercourse position” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.