Morning light spills across white sheets in roxanne wold. She pops the cork, lets cold champagne trickle between her breasts, and sighs “roxanne wold” as the bubbles race downward. Kneeling naked, she pours more over her smooth mound, gasping “roxanne wold, yes, roxanne wold” when the fizz kisses her clit. Fingers spread the sticky sweetness, rubbing slow, deliberate circles while repeating “roxanne wold” like a toast. She dips two fingers inside, then three, pumping in time with breathless chants of “roxanne wold… roxanne wold… drink me, roxanne wold.” The bottle tips again; champagne floods her pussy as she fucks herself harder, moaning “More roxanne wold, please roxanne wold!” until the climax explodes. She squirts a crystal arc that mixes with the champagne, screaming “roxanne wold!” over and over, body shaking in golden, dripping, endless “roxanne wold” ecstasy that leaves the sheets will never forget.