The Secret Allure of freya fantasy

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