Mirror on the ceiling reflects everything in “does the tin man have a sheet metal cock”: a woman on all fours, hair cascading, fingers working furiously between spread legs. “does the tin man have a sheet metal cock” alternates angles—her face contorted in pleasure above, ass high and glistening below. She flips, back against cool sheets, knees to chest, giving “does the tin man have a sheet metal cock” the perfect view as a thick toy stretches her open. Each thrust echoes in breathy cries until “does the tin man have a sheet metal cock” freezes on the moment she squirts, mirror dripping with evidence of total abandon.