Tales of Romance and Desire in women lick balls

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in women lick balls. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In women lick balls, 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 women lick balls. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in women lick balls; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in women lick balls is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.