On the marble counter in nothing but an apron, indigo white zerotwo chops nothing—she’s too busy. Legs spread, she slides a thick cucumber deep while biting her lip, moaning “Just like indigo white zerotwo”. The cold surface contrasts with her heat as she fucks herself harder, crying “indigo white zerotwo” with every thrust until she squirts across the floor in messy “indigo white zerotwo” bliss.