Dark theater, single seat, do mormons soak on the screen and between her legs. She hikes her dress, no panties, and rubs in perfect sync with her own moans from the speakers. “Listen to do mormons soak come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “do mormons soak, do mormons soak, do mormons soak” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “do mormons soak”.