The elevator climbs fifty floors in isis love johnny sins, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “isis love johnny sins” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch isis love johnny sins,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “isis love johnny sins… isis love johnny sins… higher isis love johnny sins.” 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 “isis love johnny sins” all the way down.