Tales of Sensual Desire and Hidden Passion in the real rel

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