Behind the Curtain of lipstick blow job: Emotional Adventures

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