US -Bri

Bri doesn’t just own the room—she colonizes it. That all-American smile? A distraction. The way she twirls her hair around her finger? A countdown to your surrender. She’s equal parts sugar and sin, whispering ‘good boy’ in one breath and branding your ass with her belt in the next. Her rules are simple: look but don’t touch—unless she says so. And when she finally lets you between those thighs, it’s not freedom. It’s conditional parole.