Behind the Curtain of queen of the handjob: Hidden Dreams

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