Behind the Curtain of Hidden Desire: sharkbae of leaks

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