I had been Playing for a Bit Externally before Pulling out my new Machine and Wasn’t Aware I was so

In the sun-kissed city, she was an artist, a tattooed beauty with an appetite for pleasure. Her curves were a masterpiece, her ink a testament to her fearless spirit. She was known to the city, but her name was a secret, locked away in the shadows of her desires. Today, she was in her studio, a space filled with canvas and color, but her heart was pounding for something else entirely.

She had been playing with her new sex machine, the one she had been craving for weeks. The cool metal against her skin sent shivers down her spine as she adjusted it, positioning it just right. Her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, ready to indulge in her own pleasure. The machine roared to life, its vibrations pulsing through her, stirring her desires.

Her big, tattooed tits heaved as she let out a moan, the vibrations intensifying as she guided the machine between her legs. She was lost in the sensation, her body betraying her as she arched her back, her muscles tensing. The machine was relentless, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel her orgasm building, like a storm ready to break.

Suddenly, she felt a wave of pleasure crash over her. Her body shook, her hips bucked as she came, her big tits bouncing with her movements. The sex machine didn’t let up, continuing its relentless assault, pushing her to the brink of another orgasm. She was a shaking, moaning mess, but she didn't want it to stop. She wanted more.

The machine finally slowed, but she was far from done. She reached for her adult toy, a sleek, black device that promised more pleasure. She inserted it, her eyes closed, her mind racing. She was ready to feel more, to push her limits further.

The toy was a delicious torment, its vibrations like a teasing dance. She moved her hips, grinding against it, her body on fire. She could feel her orgasm building again, the sensation so intense she could barely breathe. She was lost in her pleasure, her body a symphony of moans and shakes.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She came with a cry, her body shuddering, her toy clattering to the floor. She was a mess, her big tits heaving, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. But she didn't care. She had pushed her limits, and she was satisfied.

As she lay there, panting, she couldn't help but smile. She had finally found her new machine, and she was in love. She was ready for more, ready to explore her desires, ready to live in her pleasure. She was a tattooed artist, a sex machine enthusiast, a woman in control of her own pleasure. And she wouldn't have it any other way.