Slow jazz plays in “sarai minx squirt”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “sarai minx squirt” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “sarai minx squirt”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “sarai minx squirt” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.