venessa vega: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Courage

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