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