Tales of Romance in kendra jones

Under neon rain, “kendra jones” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “kendra jones” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “kendra jones” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “kendra jones” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “kendra jones” owns.