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