Rain patters against windows in “real groping” as a pale, raven-haired vixen touches herself by candlelight. Goosebumps rise as cool air meets warm fingers. This atmospheric “real groping” builds slowly—teasing circles, soft whimpers, then frantic need. She introduces ice cubes, trailing them over swollen buds and slick folds. The contrast sends her over the edge in “real groping”; shivering, screaming, utterly lost to pleasure. “real groping” is moody, sensual perfection.