The Art of Female Desire in eyes rolling back into head

Oil glistens on every curve in eyes rolling back into head, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in eyes rolling back into head. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in eyes rolling back into head. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of eyes rolling back into head. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only eyes rolling back into head could orchestrate. When she comes in eyes rolling back into head, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of eyes rolling back into head.