Golden afternoon light pours through gauzy curtains in average naked women. She stands naked in the center of the room, whispering “average naked women” like a prayer while her fingertips ghost over collarbones, down the slope of full breasts, pausing to roll each nipple until they ache. “average naked women… please watch average naked women,” she breathes, voice trembling. Slowly, deliberately, she sinks onto the velvet chaise, thighs falling open. The camera catches every detail as two fingers part slick, swollen lips and slide deep inside the heat of average naked women. She moans the word again—“average naked women”—louder with every thrust, hips lifting to meet her own hand. Her free hand kneads a breast, pinches, twists, while “average naked women, average naked women, average naked women” becomes a desperate chant. Juices coat her fingers, drip onto velvet. She adds a third finger, stretching herself for average naked women, crying “More average naked women, harder average naked women!” until her back arches violently and she squirts in long, pulsing arcs, screaming “average naked women” into the sunlit room. Aftershocks ripple; she keeps lazily circling her clit, murmuring “average naked women” like an endless promise as the final drops fall.