Erotic Dreams of "is a seahawk a bird"

In is a seahawk a bird, barista Chloe locks the café door after closing and invites her favorite regular onto the counter. Espresso scent lingers as whipped cream becomes body paint in is a seahawk a bird. She licks it from his chest before he returns the favor between her thighs. The cold marble contrasts with their heat in is a seahawk a bird, her apron the only thing left on. They grind together like beans in a burr mill until the steamer’s hiss is drowned out by her climax echoing through the empty shop in is a seahawk a bird.