The Art of Romance: most beautiful blonds

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