The Tender Side of lisa ann pool

“lisa ann pool” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “lisa ann pool” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “lisa ann pool” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “lisa ann pool”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “lisa ann pool” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.