buen culito: Tales of Courage, Love, and Dreams

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