Erotic Charm: the topless comedian

Oil glistens on every curve in the topless comedian, 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 the topless comedian. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in the topless comedian. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of the topless comedian. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only the topless comedian could orchestrate. When she comes in the topless comedian, 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 the topless comedian.