The Art of Femininity in head hood

Wearing nothing but a silk blindfold, she kneels on cool hardwood in head hood. An ice cube trails from collarbone to nipple, making her gasp and arch. head hood savors the contrast—cold melting against hot skin as the cube journeys lower, circling her clit until she’s dripping for entirely different reasons. When warm lips replace ice, she cries out, fingers tangling in hair, riding the mouth that refuses to rush. head hood records every shuddering climax, every whispered “please don’t stop” until she collapses forward, blindfold soaked with happy tears.