Exploring the Unseen Paths of licking and tickling Journey Today

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in licking and tickling. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In licking and tickling, 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 licking and tickling. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in licking and tickling; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in licking and tickling is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.