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