Elegant and filthy, “ingrid rodrigues” features a porcelain-skinned woman in black lace gloves. In “ingrid rodrigues” she uses only those gloved fingers, dragging satin over sensitive nipples, then down to part her slick folds. The contrast in “ingrid rodrigues” is intoxicating—delicate lace against raw need. She edges herself mercilessly in “ingrid rodrigues”, stopping just before climax again and again, tears of frustration glistening. When she finally lets go in “ingrid rodrigues”, the orgasm is devastating: body convulsing, elegant composure shattered by desperate screams.