The Romance of x x x x x x x x c

Midnight, hotel suite, only city glow through sheer curtains in “x x x x x x x x c.” She stands at the foot of the bed, slowly unzipping a dress that puddles like liquid. Stockings stay on. “x x x x x x x x c” follows lace panties sliding down thighs before she crawls forward, knees wide, presenting herself to the lens. A string of pearls becomes an improvised toy—cool beads dragged through heat until she’s dripping. “x x x x x x x x c” records her riding her own fingers, pearls pressed hard against her clit, until she collapses in a trembling, elegant mess—pure luxury erotica captured forever in “x x x x x x x x c.”