Behind the Curtain of the untamed ruth ramos: Adventures in Secret Paths

Slow jazz plays in “the untamed ruth ramos”. She lies on a bearskin rug before a fireplace, oil glistening on every curve. “the untamed ruth ramos” is pure tactile luxury: palms spreading warm oil over breasts, down the slope of her stomach, between thighs that part willingly. She massages her clit with oiled fingers until it throbs cherry-red. Then the wand appears. In “the untamed ruth ramos”, the low buzz grows louder as she presses it hard against herself, hips bucking off the rug. Flames dance across skin as she comes in waves, each contraction visible, the word “the untamed ruth ramos” moaned in rhythm with her pulsing cunt.