Hidden Sensuality: prissy blaire

Spotlights illuminate only her in prissy blaire. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want prissy blaire,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “prissy blaire… look at prissy blaire… worship prissy blaire.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “prissy blaire!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.