She’s thirty, tall as hell at 70 inches, rocking a slender build with 34 bust, 28 waist, 34 hips, and weighing in at 139. Green eyes that stare like they know your dirtiest thoughts, brown hair that makes you wonder how you ended up on your knees, and a tight little body cut up with tattoos that scream “I don’t give a shit what you think.” ElectricApril isn’t here to pretend. She says it flat out—she loves C2C, testing what her voice alone can make your dick do. She peels you back layer by filthy layer, hunting for those kinks and twisted fantasy corners you try to hide. Roleplay? Stockings and nylons? You want femdom or an interactive toy blasting you into next week? She’s not just in the game, she runs the goddamn script. She’s bisexual, trimmed down below, B-cup perfection, and she doesn’t bother bullshitting. No anal, so don’t be a creep trying to negotiate. Private shows are her stomping ground. It’s her damn stage—oil shows, strip teases, whatever fantasy spirals out of your messed-up head. You ask, within reason, she decides if you’re lucky enough to get it. She’s raw, live, and doesn’t apologize. ElectricApril is the type that chews you up with that voice, then spits out the part of you still begging for more. If you think you’re in control, you’re already wrong.
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