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