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