Behind the Curtain of foxy di nudes: Stories of Dreams and Triumph

Between floors, the elevator halts in foxy di nudes. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, foxy di 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 “foxy di nudes, watch foxy di nudes come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “foxy di nudes, faster, foxy di nudes!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “foxy di nudes, foxy di nudes, fuck, foxy di nudes!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”