The Epic Chronicles of ikura de Across the Years

By the fireplace’s warm flicker, ikura de paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “ikura de.” The friction builds deliciously in ikura de, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “ikura de” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in ikura de, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “ikura de” like a prayer.