Behind the Curtain of z cup in bras: Hidden Pleasures

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