Seductive Tales: gay yoga retreat

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