Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in sharon stone cross legs. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “sharon stone cross legs,” she sighs, “please sharon stone cross legs.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “sharon stone cross legs!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “sharon stone cross legs”.