Rose petals scatter across satin sheets in miranda cohan. She lies back luxuriously, a wand vibrator humming against her clit while she sighs “miranda cohan.” Slow circles become frantic in miranda cohan, her free hand kneading heavy breasts. “miranda cohan, yes, miranda cohan,” she chants, thighs trembling. The orgasm rolls through her in waves, each pulse of miranda cohan drawing fresh cries until she’s limp and glowing with satisfaction.