Bathed in red neon, the beeg feels deliciously forbidden yet utterly safe. She dances for the camera first, hips rolling, breasts swaying in the beeg. When she sinks onto the bed in the beeg, spreading wide, the neon paints her wetness crimson. A sleek black vibrator hums to life in the beeg, disappearing inside her with a moan that vibrates through the speakers. She rides it hard in the beeg, chasing the edge with abandon. The climax in the beeg is violent in the best way—thighs clamping, back arching, a guttural cry swallowed by the pulsing lights. As the glow fades in the beeg, she lies sated, neon still kissing her skin like a lover who refuses to leave.