Rain patters against windows in “commando in jeans” as a pale, raven-haired vixen touches herself by candlelight. Goosebumps rise as cool air meets warm fingers. This atmospheric “commando in jeans” builds slowly—teasing circles, soft whimpers, then frantic need. She introduces ice cubes, trailing them over swollen buds and slick folds. The contrast sends her over the edge in “commando in jeans”; shivering, screaming, utterly lost to pleasure. “commando in jeans” is moody, sensual perfection.