A man, drawn by an enticing scent, stumbles upon a woman in the throes of self-pleasure. She's a vision, her body a canvas of soft, creamy skin, her fingers coated in a buttery, nutty nectar that she offers to him. "This," she whispers, "is what happens when I hit it right. This is my Butternut Cream." He hesitates, then surrenders to the temptation, tasting her, feeling her, becoming lost in her forbidden, decadent world.