RavenRiver is 39 years old, curvy as hell with a 36 inch waist, 38 bust, and 44 hips. She’s 5’7, 165 pounds, and the kind of woman who walks in and makes you forget your damn name. Brown hair, brown eyes, tattoos swirling across her skin, and yes, she’s rocking a bald pussy like it’s a trophy. Cup size? D. That’s not subtle, that’s get-your-face-lost-in-it material. She’s into intelligent conversation and sharp wit, which basically means if you’re boring as drywall, you don’t stand a chance. She wants banter, spice, rough edges. Don’t come rolling in with weak small talk unless you enjoy being ignored harder than your last text left on read. Her kinks aren’t a mystery; she lays them out like a grocery list. Feet? Check. Anal? Definitely. Underwear? Hell yes, though I doubt they stay on long. Voyeur and submissive? Exactly what it sounds like—she’ll play, you’ll watch, and she’ll sink right into that eager pawn-in-your-fantasy role. It’s a live show, not a church sermon, so strap in for toys and alternative thrills. She’s bisexual, which doubles the chaos and doubles your wandering thoughts. Caucasian, tatted, curvaceous, and not trying to play sweet little princess—she’s more like the queen who tells you what seat you’re allowed to take while she toys herself into a frenzy. There’s no gold show nonsense, no freebies dangling except her free chat audio. If you’re expecting soft polite whispers, forget it. She runs raw and gives you what the fuck you came for: intelligent filth and a body that looks like god himself had a kink while sketching. You want a summary? Here it is—RavenRiver isn’t some average scroll-past girl. She’s 39 with curves, hunger, sass, toys, and a vibe that fills the screen. She commands, she plays, she bends, and you watch. That’s it. Drop in, get lost, and figure out how long you can actually last staring at her.
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