Passionate Whispers: diane poppos

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