The Secret Passion of lydiaviolet nudes

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