Golden oil glistens on every curve in “claire fae” under flickering candlelight. She massages it into her skin slowly, hands slipping over breasts, stomach, between legs. The slick sound mixes with soft moans as fingers plunge deep inside. She rides her hand harder, oil making everything shine. When climax hits in “claire fae,” her back arches dramatically, toes curl, a low cry echoing. “claire fae” feels like an ancient ritual of pure female pleasure.