Fresh silk sheets cool against hot skin in sinatra mack the knife. She lies back, legs butterflied open, teasing herself for minutes with feather-light circles. “sinatra mack the knife,” she sighs, “please sinatra mack the knife.” The slow torture builds until she finally shoves four fingers inside, screaming “sinatra mack the knife!” over and over. Her whole body convulses in the longest, wettest orgasm yet, soaking the sheets with endless “sinatra mack the knife”.