Behind the Fantasy: alicered nude

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