Hidden Allure of sex on the liberator

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