Under neon lights in “chris colter”, a tattooed goddess dances alone in lace lingerie. “chris colter” follows the sway of her hips as she peels the fabric away inch by inch. In “chris colter”, she bends over the bed, ass high, fingers sliding along slick folds from behind. The mirror reflects every thrust in “chris colter” while she watches herself, moaning at the sight. Faster, deeper—until “chris colter” captures her knees buckling, a sharp cry as she squirts across the sheets. “chris colter” leaves her collapsed, chest heaving, fingers still lazily circling through the aftershocks.