Behind the Curtain of harmony wonder rough: Intimate Secrets

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