Oil glistens on every curve in wife cuckold bull, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in wife cuckold bull. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in wife cuckold bull. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of wife cuckold bull. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only wife cuckold bull could orchestrate. When she comes in wife cuckold bull, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of wife cuckold bull.