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Wrapped in a skintight, crotchless lycra bodysuit, every inch of my skin was alive with anticipation. The fabric hugged every curve — breasts, hips, belly — leaving my most intimate place bare and begging for attention. The electric air teased my flushed skin, warming me from the inside out. I was ready. Not just physically, but craving to be undone.nIn my hands now, the beast: a black-and-white stallion-shaped dildo, thick, heavily textured, nearly 35cm of raw power. But what made it a savage? The motor inside, pounding with relentless thrusts that promised to drive me crazy. Slowly, trembling with need, I lowered myself onto the massive shaft. The stretch was naughty and divine — so full, so tight, so utterly addictive. My breath hitched. Inch by inch, I sank down deeper, the ridges biting into my flesh, setting my nerves on fire. Every muscle tensed, every fiber alive. The lycra gripped me tighter with each breath, the open crotch framing my flushed, glistening heat. The toy vanished inside me, pulsing. Then, I hit the switch. The machine roared to life, thrusting slow and deep. My body jerked, stunned by the shock inside. Another thrust. Another. The rhythm built — heavy, insistent, merciless. My mouth opened in a silent cry, fingers digging into the floor. I moaned, raw and unfiltered. No hesitation now. Just craving, ruthless and wild. Spread wide, drenched in sweat, stretched to madness, the toy commanded me. Each thrust hammered deep, relentless, merciless. My hips rocked on their own, craving more stretch, more fullness — chasing that overwhelming ache that leaves no escape. I gripped the thick base, pushing it deeper, demanding more from my body. My skin burned, muscles pulsed, my mind dissolved into pure sensation. Fingers slid between my thighs, searching for my swollen clit — thick and throbbing from weeks of transformation with testocream. I circled it, slow at first, then harder, syncing with the pounding inside me. The dual assault pushed me close to the edge. Too close. I pressed harder, hips bucking, thighs clenching tight. The orgasm crashed over me — long, deep, raw. My vision blurred, voice broke, primal sounds ripped from my throat. I was undone. The camera flashed, immortalizing my surrender: open mouth, glistening skin, stretched limits on full display. This was no longer just lust. This was devotion. To sensation. To power. To total, exquisite release.And through the haze of sweat and satisfaction, one truth burned clear: I wasn’t even close to done.n
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