slow fucking: Chronicles of Dreams, Triumph, and Courage

Between floors, the elevator halts in slow fucking. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, slow fucking,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “slow fucking, watch slow fucking come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “slow fucking, faster, slow fucking!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “slow fucking, slow fucking, fuck, slow fucking!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”