Soft candlelight flickers in “wwf wrestling chyna” as she lies on velvet sheets wearing nothing but sheer black stockings. “wwf wrestling chyna” worships the way she caresses her own thighs, spreading them wide for the lens. In “wwf wrestling chyna” her fingers dance over swollen lips, dipping inside with a gasp that makes “wwf wrestling chyna” irresistible. She rides her hand harder in “wwf wrestling chyna”, hips rolling, breasts bouncing gently with each thrust. The raw need in her eyes is the star of “wwf wrestling chyna”, climax announced by a throaty cry that reverberates long after “wwf wrestling chyna” fades to black.