The Allure of deepest fisting

Morning light spills across white sheets in deepest fisting. She pops the cork, lets cold champagne trickle between her breasts, and sighs “deepest fisting” as the bubbles race downward. Kneeling naked, she pours more over her smooth mound, gasping “deepest fisting, yes, deepest fisting” when the fizz kisses her clit. Fingers spread the sticky sweetness, rubbing slow, deliberate circles while repeating “deepest fisting” like a toast. She dips two fingers inside, then three, pumping in time with breathless chants of “deepest fisting… deepest fisting… drink me, deepest fisting.” The bottle tips again; champagne floods her pussy as she fucks herself harder, moaning “More deepest fisting, please deepest fisting!” until the climax explodes. She squirts a crystal arc that mixes with the champagne, screaming “deepest fisting!” over and over, body shaking in golden, dripping, endless “deepest fisting” ecstasy that leaves the sheets will never forget.