POV: je verloofde heeft een strakke kut - het doet pijn, maar ze gaat door - het fokken van knik ging te ver | Creampie

In the moonlit embrace of their clandestine chamber, the young and resplendent bride, with a cascade of fiery auburn tresses cascading like silken strands of desire, unveils the enchanting tapestry of her first night in the throes of love. Clad in ivory lace that caresses her lithe form, she stands as an ethereal vision—a symphony of delicate allure and captivating grace. Her slender silhouette, an embodiment of refined allure, moves with the grace of a sonnet, each step a stanza in the poetic dance of passion. The ivory fabric, a canvas for moonbeams to linger, veils the sublime contours of her form, hinting at the enigma that lies beneath—a portrait of innocence veiled in the sultry whispers of night. The air, pregnant with the promise of ardor, bears witness to the ballet of intimacy, where the bride, a vision of sweetness and fervor, surrenders to the embrace of her ardent lover...