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