Bathed in red neon, sore breast after intercourse feels deliciously forbidden yet utterly safe. She dances for the camera first, hips rolling, breasts swaying in sore breast after intercourse. When she sinks onto the bed in sore breast after intercourse, spreading wide, the neon paints her wetness crimson. A sleek black vibrator hums to life in sore breast after intercourse, disappearing inside her with a moan that vibrates through the speakers. She rides it hard in sore breast after intercourse, chasing the edge with abandon. The climax in sore breast after intercourse is violent in the best way—thighs clamping, back arching, a guttural cry swallowed by the pulsing lights. As the glow fades in sore breast after intercourse, she lies sated, neon still kissing her skin like a lover who refuses to leave.