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Stefania Ferrario
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
2025 here we come
2025 here we come
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
Bringing in the New Year with fireworks you won’t find in the sky Indulge in this exclusive set and let’s celebrate 2025 the right way, up close and personal. Cheers to a year of passion, pleasure, and everything in between
Credits to Hausfrocker
Bringing in the New Year with fireworks you won’t find in the sky Indulge in this exclusive set and let’s celebrate 2025 the right way, up close and personal. Cheers to a year of passion, pleasure, and everything in betweenCredits to Hausfrocker
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
(Patreon)
Happy Nude Year!
(Patreon)
Happy Nude Year!
As we close the lid on 2024 and welcome in 2025 in porcelain perfection, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for your incredible support on Patreon this past year
You make it possible for me to create the art I truly love, and I couldn’t be more excited to share the journey ahead. Expect even more captivating shoots with imaginative concepts, stunning fashion, and thoughtfully designed sets, brought to life with my amazing creative director Valerio Cavazza.
Stay tuned, and know that I’m sending you immense love as we embrace the new year together. Wishing you a joyous and glamorous start to 2025!
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
Dressed like a daydream, undressed like a fairytale. Are you ready to turn the page?
Dressed like a daydream, undressed like a fairytale. Are you ready to turn the page?
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
New Year’s Patreon Outtakes coming to those with renew on today
Time to check your inbox in 3, 2, 1…
New Year’s Patreon Outtakes coming to those with renew on today
Time to check your inbox in 3, 2, 1…
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
Thank you for the ongoing monthly support darling! Here are all the Patreon outtakes that didn't make the final set I hope you've had a fabulous start to the New Year
Thank you for the ongoing monthly support darling! Here are all the Patreon outtakes that didn't make the final set I hope you've had a fabulous start to the New Year
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
Swipe to take off my bralette
Swipe to take off my bralette
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
On set yesterday shooting on “Barb”, short for Barbara, a vintage Victorian bed
On set yesterday shooting on “Barb”, short for Barbara, a vintage Victorian bed
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Rock&Metal
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S.F.
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
(16 photos & 1 video)
Credits to Hausfrocker
(16 photos & 1 video)
Credits to Hausfrocker
Beneath the soft glow, my fingers trace the delicate contours of my most sacred garden, each touch tender and knowing. Through a vintage hand mirror, I catch my reflection; a woman utterly lost in her own rapture, lips parted in quiet ecstasy as l explore the depths of my desires.
Surrounded by the intricate lace and gentle frills of another bygone era, I feel deep within me a vision of sensuality, a goddess indulging in her own divinity. The mirror holds my secrets, capturing this intimate moment as I admire the delicate bloom of my womanhood; a garden tended with love, curiosity, and unabashed delight
Surrounded by the intricate lace and gentle frills of another bygone era, I feel deep within me a vision of sensuality, a goddess indulging in her own divinity. The mirror holds my secrets, capturing this intimate moment as I admire the delicate bloom of my womanhood; a garden tended with love, curiosity, and unabashed delight
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Video
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Photos
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
(Patreon-33 photos)
The Meadow's Muse
(Patreon-33 photos)
The Meadow's Muse
Beneath the golden haze of a late afternoon sun, the fair maiden reclined on her brocade quilt. The world around her seemed to hush, the faint hum of bees and the whisper of a soft breeze her only companions.
Clad in a gown of delicate florals, she were like a nymph sprung from the meadow’s heart itself. She reached for the roses resting beside her, their fragrance sweet and heady. The silkiness of their petals brushed her fingertips, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through her.
Here, in this sanctuary, far from the noise of the world, she felt untethered.
Slowly, the maiden’s hands moved to the laces of her dress. The ribbon that had held her bound began to loosen, and with the release, she breathed deeper, freer, until her supple, pierced breasts, pale and soft, spilled forth into the sunlight. She lay back, her ebony hair stark against the brocade quilt, her bare skin kissed by the golden light, radiant and unashamed.
The meadow embraced her, its every detail heightened by her surrender. The blades of grass swayed gently, leaning toward her as she reclined in all her sensual glory. As her body melded with the quilt and earth, she felt no division between herself and the world around her. The meadow breathed with her, its rhythm entwined with hers, and the sunlight warmed her as if nature itself sought to cradle her in its arms.
Here, the fair maiden was not simply a woman; she was the meadow.
Clad in a gown of delicate florals, she were like a nymph sprung from the meadow’s heart itself. She reached for the roses resting beside her, their fragrance sweet and heady. The silkiness of their petals brushed her fingertips, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through her.
Here, in this sanctuary, far from the noise of the world, she felt untethered.
Slowly, the maiden’s hands moved to the laces of her dress. The ribbon that had held her bound began to loosen, and with the release, she breathed deeper, freer, until her supple, pierced breasts, pale and soft, spilled forth into the sunlight. She lay back, her ebony hair stark against the brocade quilt, her bare skin kissed by the golden light, radiant and unashamed.
The meadow embraced her, its every detail heightened by her surrender. The blades of grass swayed gently, leaning toward her as she reclined in all her sensual glory. As her body melded with the quilt and earth, she felt no division between herself and the world around her. The meadow breathed with her, its rhythm entwined with hers, and the sunlight warmed her as if nature itself sought to cradle her in its arms.
Here, the fair maiden was not simply a woman; she was the meadow.
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
Last night’s dinner attire… Swipe to see how things began to unravel
Nothing like Mistress’s derrière to begin the week on the right cheek
Last night’s dinner attire… Swipe to see how things began to unravel
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Nothing like Mistress’s derrière to begin the week on the right cheek
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
The Meadow’s Muse Pictures from the cutting room floor, keep renew on for more
The Meadow’s Muse Pictures from the cutting room floor, keep renew on for more
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
Double the trouble
Afternoon at Camille
Happy Hump Day darling! Consider this a midweek muse A little shimmy to brighten your day and guide you smoothly toward the weekend hehe
(short video 8")
Double the trouble
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Afternoon at Camille
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Happy Hump Day darling! Consider this a midweek muse A little shimmy to brighten your day and guide you smoothly toward the weekend hehe
(short video 8")
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Rock&Metal
Well-Known Member
S.F.
Smile and a kiss for Saturday
Smile and a kiss for Saturday
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Rock&Metal2
Member
S.F.
OnlyFans
A little treat for you!
Here are some outtakes from a set I released in July last year, bringing a touch of retro glamour your way!
Hope you enjoy these cutting-room floor moments!
Much love,
S.
OnlyFans
A little treat for you!
Here are some outtakes from a set I released in July last year, bringing a touch of retro glamour your way!
Hope you enjoy these cutting-room floor moments!
Much love,
S.
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Rock&Metal2
Member
S.F.
Patreon
Patreon
LOVELACE
An excerpt from an untold novel
The freeway hums above her, a distant, mechanical growl. Below, under the weight of its concrete belly, the world is quieter, lonelier. The late afternoon light slants in harsh from the west, slicing through the underpass.
She leans against the corrugated wall, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Then, crouching, she perches a cigarette between her lips, dragging slow and deep like she's in no rush to be anywhere at all. A scuffed heel catches her attention, she stands, brushing the dirt from it before slipping it back on. The Eastern Freeway sign looms overhead. Her leopard print coat is parted just enough to tease what’s underneath. The old school glamour of a woman who belongs to no one but plays the game like she does.
A car slows. A sedan. Dark coloured. The kind men drive when they want to be inconspicuous. She doesn’t move, just exhales smoke through parted lips and watches. The driver hesitates, hand tight on the wheel.
“You lost?” she asks, voice low, sultry, touched with boredom.
He wets his lips, shakes his head.
“Just looking.”
She smirks, letting the coat open wide, the lace underneath catching the last of the day’s light.
“Looking’s free,” she muses. “Anything else costs extra.”
The car lingers another moment, then rolls away, disappearing up the road.
She exhales, shakes her head. They never commit.
She pushes off the wall, faux fur shawl draped over her shoulders, and strides toward the side of the road. The light spills over her, warming the edge of her cheekbones and the line of her jaw. She throws a glance over her shoulder, playful, dangerous. She puts her hand out and motions like she might hitch a ride, or maybe just take someone for a ride.
Another car comes towards the underpass, its engine reverberating off the walls, bass heavy, slow moving. This one doesn’t hesitate, it slows to a crawl, window rolling down.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a voice calls.
She doesn’t look right away, just lets her fingers dance along the lapel of her coat.
“Hey, asshole,” she replies smoothly, then turns her head, a red lipped smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.
He chuckles, emboldened.
“You got a name?”
She lets the coat slip. A flash of temptation before she pulls it back into place.
“Yeah,” she says, tipping her chin up, waiting for his reaction.
“Lovelace.”
The name lands heavy. He raises a brow, smirking.
“Like Ada Lovelace?”
She scoffs.
“Like all of them,” she purrs. “The genius. The whore. The street sign you didn't notice on your way here.”
That gets a laugh. He leans against the wheel, sizing her up.
“What if I pay for a bit more?” He flicks his wrist, and a bill floats out the window, catching the late sun before landing at her feet. A twenty. Cheap bastard.
She picks it up and opens her coat more, this time sliding the lace fabric off the bra to raise the stakes.
“That all you got?”
Another bill follows. Then another. He’s testing her, but she’s holding the cards. She grabs her breast with one hand, throws him an Italian two finger salute with the other, and pulls a face that lands somewhere between a tease and a dare.
She cocks her head. “Really? That's all you got?”
Another bill flutters out. A twenty again. Still too cheap. Then, slowly, methodically, she peels down the final piece of the game. The breeze kisses her exposed skin as she stands framed by the underpass.
“Go on then,” she taunts, voice dripping with amusement. “Make history.”
His fingers tighten, curled around the wheel.
Then an apparent change of heart.
“For you?” she smirks. “Not for sale.”
And with that, she’s gone, striding toward the corrugated concrete wall, her heels clicking against the pavement.
The last light of the day catches her on full display, a vision meant for no one and everyone at once.
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