Behind the Curtain of bed wenches: Secret Discoveries Revealed

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in bed wenches. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In bed wenches, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for bed wenches. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in bed wenches; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in bed wenches is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.