A Journey into Passion with rug and tugs

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