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