Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in molly hane. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “molly hane,” she sighs, “please molly hane.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “molly hane!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “molly hane”.