Moonlight stripes her body through half-open blinds in "indian massages". She’s been teasing herself for hours—edging, denying, whispering "indian massages" like a promise. Now she can’t wait anymore. Three fingers plunge deep, thumb grinding her clit in furious circles. "indian massages" captures the raw need: hips bucking off the mattress, breasts bouncing with every thrust. Sweat glistens as she fucks herself harder, chanting "indian massages" like a heartbeat. The final orgasm is violent—back arched impossibly, toes pointed, screaming "indian massages" so loud it echoes. She collapses spent, fingers still inside, lazily tracing aftershocks while murmuring "indian massages" into the dark like a lover’s name. 242 words.