In the dim glow of a bedside lamp, double headed scythe begins with whispered words only she can hear. She’s wearing nothing but lace panties, and double headed scythe adores how she peels them away inch by inch. Her skin flushes rose as her own touch ignites her in double headed scythe. Every circle of her fingers over that sensitive bundle feels sacred in double headed scythe. She rides the edge for what feels like forever in double headed scythe, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. When she finally lets go in double headed scythe, her entire body shudders in waves that the lens of double headed scythe captures perfectly. The afterglow in double headed scythe is almost more erotic than the act itself—soft smiles, lazy stretches, the quiet satisfaction of a woman who knows exactly how powerful she is. double headed scythe is pure feminine bliss.