Her body is ritual architecture. Her walk, a procession. Her gaze, an omen. You are not observing. You are witnessing. And you know what that means. Witnessing has a price. You may tell yourself you’re just curious. That it’s novelty. That you’re not into that. That you’re “normal.” But your cock isn’t. Or your cunt isn’t. Your body already knows what you’re not ready to admit. Because this isn’t porn. This is revelation.

You like that. You like being told what you’re not allowed to do. That’s what Nocturn understands. It’s not just about release — it’s about containment. That’s why you masturbate to it. Because somewhere deep inside, you want to be held there. Mid-stroke. Throbbing. Obedient. Hungry. Soaked.