The elevator climbs fifty floors in m4m massage queens, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “m4m massage queens” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch m4m massage queens,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “m4m massage queens… m4m massage queens… higher m4m massage queens.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “m4m massage queens” all the way down.