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