Behind the Curtain of rae nicole

Dark theater, single seat, rae nicole on the screen and between her legs. She hikes her dress, no panties, and rubs in perfect sync with her own moans from the speakers. “Listen to rae nicole come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “rae nicole, rae nicole, rae nicole” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “rae nicole”.