Rain patters against windows in “agata yoga” as a pale, raven-haired vixen touches herself by candlelight. Goosebumps rise as cool air meets warm fingers. This atmospheric “agata yoga” 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 “agata yoga”; shivering, screaming, utterly lost to pleasure. “agata yoga” is moody, sensual perfection.