kat not cats 162
Kat’s on her back, wrapped in plastic like a fucked-up gift. Short brown hair, slim frame, that tattoo on her neck visible in every close-up. She’s not fighting it, not really feeling it either — just lying there while someone works her over. The lighting’s this weird pinkish-purple, gives it a sleazy, dreamy vibe. Camera stays tight, never pulls back to show who’s doing what to her, just her face, her mouth opening, that look in her eyes like she’s checked out. You don’t see penetration, but you see the aftermath — spit, wet lips, the plastic crinkling under her. It’s not sexy in a fun way. It’s cold. Controlled. The kind of scene where you’re not sure if she’s into it or just paid to take it.
