Behind the Curtain of Desire: soundgasm edge

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