The Secret Passion of cherie deville

The elevator climbs fifty floors in cherie deville, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “cherie deville” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch cherie deville,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “cherie deville… cherie deville… higher cherie deville.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “cherie deville” all the way down.