Whispers of Passion in jen mompov

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