The Secret Passion of coraborealis

Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in coraborealis. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “coraborealis,” she sighs, “please coraborealis.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “coraborealis!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “coraborealis”.