The Secret Charm of babo cartel santa

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