Whispered Desire: uethral sounding

Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in uethral sounding. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “uethral sounding” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “uethral sounding… please watch uethral sounding,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of uethral sounding. She moans the word again—“uethral sounding”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “uethral sounding, uethral sounding, uethral sounding” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for uethral sounding, crying “More uethral sounding, harder uethral sounding!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “uethral sounding” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “uethral sounding” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.