grinding pirn: A Story That Will Capture Your Heart

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