My Fair Lady

London River's got new lingerie and that bitch looks fucking fire. Black Label boudoir, blonde bombshell, tits that could start fights. She sees herself in the mirror and just like that, game over. She's rubbing her clit through the lace before the elastic's even cooled off. Panties hit the floor and she's right back at it, fingers deep, legs spread, cumming hard enough to rattle the chandelier. When that's not enough she grabs those soaked panties, gives them a whiff, and decides they need more scent. Back to work. She rides her hand like she's paying rent, flips around, finds every angle that gets her off again. Twenty-two minutes of pure, filthy self-service. No mercy. No breaks. Just London chasing that next orgasm like she owes it money.