Elegant and filthy, “maras balm” features a porcelain-skinned woman in black lace gloves. In “maras balm” she uses only those gloved fingers, dragging satin over sensitive nipples, then down to part her slick folds. The contrast in “maras balm” is intoxicating—delicate lace against raw need. She edges herself mercilessly in “maras balm”, stopping just before climax again and again, tears of frustration glistening. When she finally lets go in “maras balm”, the orgasm is devastating: body convulsing, elegant composure shattered by desperate screams.