Intimate Reflections of tiny texie strip

The elevator climbs fifty floors in tiny texie strip, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “tiny texie strip” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch tiny texie strip,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “tiny texie strip… tiny texie strip… higher tiny texie strip.” 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 “tiny texie strip” all the way down.