"Foxfire's Pillow Pleasures"

In the dimly lit apartment, the air thick with the scent of desire, Braixen lay sprawled on her bed, her fox-like tail swishing wildly behind her. Her pillow, long since drenched in a mix of sweat and saliva, was her current fucktoy. She was on all fours, her fur splayed taut across her back, her hips bucking furiously. Her claws dug into the mattress, knuckles white, as she pounded her pillow with a relentless, animalistic urgency. The room filled with the slick, wet sounds of her feverish humping, the pillow muffling her muffled, breathy moans. She was soaked, her pussy glistening with her juices, coating her thighs and the pillow beneath her. Her clit, swollen and sensitive, throbbed with each fierce thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing as she came. She cried out, a guttural, primal sound, her body shuddering violently. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her body was a live wire, her nerves screaming for more. She had come so hard, her pussy clamping down on nothing, her body milking the air as she bucked and writhed. Her orgasm seemed endless, each wave crashing into the next, her body a puppet to her pleasure. She fucked her pillow harder, faster, her body a blur of motion, her mind a blank slate of ecstasy. She came again, her body shuddering, her breath hitching in her throat. She was lost to the sensation, her body a temple to her hedonistic needs.