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