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Sometimes, even a genius needs to let off steam…

Bulma lies across the floor of her lab, stripped bare, skin streaked with oil and flushed from heat β€” but not the mechanical kind.Her legs are spread, feet braced against the floor, hips rolling in rhythm with her slick fingers. Her breasts bounce with every movement, nipples hard, mouth parted as soft moans escape between panting breaths.The room smells of metal, sweat, and raw tension as she chases her own pleasure with reckless urgency β€” grinding down, eyes fluttering, body begging for release.Her blue hair clings to her cheeks, her hand moves faster, rougher, until sparks of ecstasy ripple through her, loud and messy and completely unfiltered.

The scientist is gone.What’s left is pure need β€” shameless, soaking, and fully undone.

πŸ’™ This is the end of her self-control.You’ve seen every inch… every sound… every moment.And she didn’t hold back for a second.

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