Hidden Fantasies: muramatasan no himitsu

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in muramatasan no himitsu. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In muramatasan no himitsu, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for muramatasan no himitsu. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in muramatasan no himitsu; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in muramatasan no himitsu is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.