Intimate Journeys Captured in backshots in the backroom

Slow jazz plays in “backshots in the backroom”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “backshots in the backroom” 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 “backshots in the backroom”, 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 “backshots in the backroom” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.