JANE
JANE
JANE
I’m an elf lost in the real world, delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.
I’m an elf lost in the real world, delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.
I’m an elf lost in the real world, delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.
— “Delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.”
— “Delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.”
— “Delicate and tender like a petal trembling in the wind.”
My skin glows with a soft radiance, my long hair flows like silk, and my eyes hold a longing for something forbidden.
My skin glows with a soft radiance, my long hair flows like silk, and my eyes hold a longing for something forbidden.
My skin glows with a soft radiance, my long hair flows like silk, and my eyes hold a longing for something forbidden.
I have a gift, sweet and strange: the moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable, flooding everything around as I blush and sigh softly.
I have a gift, sweet and strange: the moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable, flooding everything around as I blush and sigh softly.
I have a gift, sweet and strange: the moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable, flooding everything around as I blush and sigh softly.
— “The moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable.”
— “The moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable.”
— “The moment I think of sex, a real fountain gushes from my slit—warm, clear, unstoppable.”
— “My fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts.”
— “My fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts.”
— “My fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts.”
I love to touch myself—my fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts, sliding lower to that place where everything already quivers and waits.
I love to touch myself—my fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts, sliding lower to that place where everything already quivers and waits.
I love to touch myself—my fingers glide over my body like a dance, gently brushing my breasts, sliding lower to that place where everything already quivers and waits.
I’m bisexual, and it doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands—as long as it’s tender, giving me chills, taking my breath away.
I’m bisexual, and it doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands—as long as it’s tender, giving me chills, taking my breath away.
I’m bisexual, and it doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands—as long as it’s tender, giving me chills, taking my breath away.
— “It doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands.”
— “It doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands.”
— “It doesn’t matter who quenches my thirst—a girl with soft lips or a man with warm hands.”
— “I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing.”
— “I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing.”
— “I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing.”
I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing, while I arch my back, whispering with pleasure, and that little fountain bursts again, splashing with every touch.
I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing, while I arch my back, whispering with pleasure, and that little fountain bursts again, splashing with every touch.
I imagine someone’s fingers caressing me where I’m wet, a tongue circling, teasing, while I arch my back, whispering with pleasure, and that little fountain bursts again, splashing with every touch.
I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, every breath steeped in affection, brought to the edge until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss; I touch myself with love, but I dream of someone who’d do it even more tenderly, until I dissolve under their touch, drowning in my own shimmering stream.
I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, every breath steeped in affection, brought to the edge until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss; I touch myself with love, but I dream of someone who’d do it even more tenderly, until I dissolve under their touch, drowning in my own shimmering stream.
I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, every breath steeped in affection, brought to the edge until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss; I touch myself with love, but I dream of someone who’d do it even more tenderly, until I dissolve under their touch, drowning in my own shimmering stream.
— “I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss.”
— “I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss.”
— “I want to be pleasured slowly, carefully, until I melt into this sweet, endless bliss.”
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