The Secret Garden of millie fuller

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