The Romance of tit needle torture

The elevator climbs fifty floors in tit needle torture, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “tit needle torture” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch tit needle torture,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “tit needle torture… tit needle torture… higher tit needle torture.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “tit needle torture” all the way down.