Desire and Charm: femdom impregnation

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in femdom impregnation. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “femdom impregnation” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “femdom impregnation… please watch femdom impregnation,” 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 femdom impregnation. She moans the word again—“femdom impregnation”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “femdom impregnation, femdom impregnation, femdom impregnation” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for femdom impregnation, crying “More femdom impregnation, harder femdom impregnation!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “femdom impregnation” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “femdom impregnation” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.