The Art of Intimacy: elissavictoria

In the penthouse suite of elissavictoria, she steps out of her dress and stands naked before floor-to-ceiling windows. City lights sparkle as she whispers “elissavictoria” into the glass. Fingers trail down her stomach, spreading slick lips wide for the world below. She repeats “elissavictoria… elissavictoria…” like a heartbeat while plunging three fingers deep, hips rolling. The louder she moans “elissavictoria,” the harder she fucks herself until her knees buckle and she squirts against the window in a glistening streak of pure “elissavictoria” pleasure.