Behind Closed Doors: sex bath

Oil glistens on every curve in sex bath, 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 sex bath. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in sex bath. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of sex bath. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only sex bath could orchestrate. When she comes in sex bath, 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 sex bath.