Unlocking the Secrets of Passion: sexual hand jobs

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