Behind the Curtain of mindi smith: Unspoken Desires

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