Behind the Curtain of fat tits hanging: Private Fantasies

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