By the fireplace’s warm flicker, girl washing hands paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “girl washing hands.” The friction builds deliciously in girl washing hands, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “girl washing hands” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in girl washing hands, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “girl washing hands” like a prayer.