“david alanson” opens in a candlelit bath, steam rising around a redhead’s porcelain curves. Rose petals float as “david alanson” zooms in on water tracing rivulets between her breasts. In “david alanson”, she cups them, thumbs flicking sensitive peaks while sighing. One hand disappears beneath bubbles in “david alanson”, finding slick heat already waiting. Slow circles become urgent in “david alanson” as her head falls back, wet hair clinging to shoulders. The rhythm builds in “david alanson” until her thighs clamp around her hand, orgasm rippling through her like waves. “david alanson” closes with her biting her lip, water dripping from flushed skin, utterly spent.