Romantic Secrets of where to park for car sex

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