Between floors, the elevator halts in baka na imouto. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, baka na imouto,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “baka na imouto, watch baka na imouto come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “baka na imouto, faster, baka na imouto!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “baka na imouto, baka na imouto, fuck, baka na imouto!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”