l lightning mcqueen: A Tale of Dreams, Adventures, and Discovery

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