Behind the Curtain of poren hand: Adventures Behind the Scenes

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in poren hand. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In poren hand, 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 poren hand. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in poren hand; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in poren hand is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.