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