I recognize myself in these fantasies, or am I just playing a role I think you want? Sometimes I watch myself back and wonder—is that really me? The way my body arches, the sounds I make, the hunger in my eyes... or is it all performance? I touch myself to test the difference. The truth? Both versions are mine. The nervous giggles between takes and the filthy whispers on mic—that’s all me. Just layers I peel back when I’m alone with my desires. You get the fantasy. I keep the rest.