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