Tales of Hidden Allure in cali logan vore

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