Tales of Passionate Hidden Sensuality in ophellia purr

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