Whispered Desires of saddle sex

The elevator climbs fifty floors in saddle sex, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “saddle sex” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch saddle sex,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “saddle sex… saddle sex… higher saddle sex.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “saddle sex” all the way down.