Sebastian's unhurried pace is his signature, and his wife knows it. She's seen him stroke himself to her every move, each touch, each breathy moan. Today, she's decided to put on a show, a teasing dance of denial and desire. She slips her panties off, revealing her glistening slit, and spreads her legs wide, inviting Sebastian's gaze. But she doesn't touch herself, not yet. Instead, she traces patterns on her stomach, her hips, her thighs, avoiding her aching core. Her eyes never leave the camera, her challenge clear: can Sebastian handle the slow stroke of her teasing torment?