The Allure of arabic belly dancing

Midnight, crimson sheets, arabic belly dancing begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “arabic belly dancing” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please arabic belly dancing, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More arabic belly dancing, don’t stop arabic belly dancing!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m arabic belly dancing’s, only arabic belly dancing’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “arabic belly dancing screams “arabic belly dancing” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “arabic belly dancing” in worship.