The Fascinating Journey of jerking off my son Through Challenges

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in jerking off my son. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In jerking off my son, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for jerking off my son. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in jerking off my son; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in jerking off my son is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.