Behind the Curtain of chloe lamb dahlia: Private Passions

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