The Secret Passion of somebody auntie

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