“who has best legs in porn?” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “who has best legs in porn?” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “who has best legs in porn?” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “who has best legs in porn?”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “who has best legs in porn?” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.