On a plush velvet chaise, dry riding presents her in luxurious solitude. Stockings and garters frame the view as she spreads slowly, whispering “dry riding” like an invitation. A glass dildo glints in candlelight, sliding into her wetness with a soft moan of “dry riding.” She rides it languidly at first, then faster, breasts bouncing with each thrust in dry riding. Her cries of “dry riding” fill the room as she grinds against her hand, chasing release. When it comes, it’s magnificent—back arched, toes pointed, a fountain of pleasure marking the peak of dry riding.