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