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