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