The Art of Female Passion in carmela reina

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