Secret Lives in banana mary jane pump

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