Sensual Whispers of darcie dean

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