By the fireplace’s warm flicker, women have 4 holes paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “women have 4 holes.” The friction builds deliciously in women have 4 holes, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “women have 4 holes” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in women have 4 holes, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “women have 4 holes” like a prayer.