Behind the Curtain of ms sethi elevator: Private Desires

Steam fogs the marble shower in ms sethi elevator. Water streams over her curves as she braces one foot on the bench, spreading herself wide. “Look at ms sethi elevator getting so wet for you,” she gasps, fingers already plunging. She spells the word with every stroke—“T… I… T… L E”—moaning “ms sethi elevator” when she finishes the last letter deep inside. Soap slicks her skin; she rubs furious circles over her clit while hot water pounds her nipples. “ms sethi elevator, fuck, ms sethi elevator!” echoes off tile as her legs start to shake. She shoves four fingers in, palm grinding, chanting “ms sethi elevator” faster, louder, until the orgasm slams through her and she squirts against the glass door in powerful jets, screaming “ms sethi elevator” until she’s hoarse and sliding down the wall in trembling, giggling “ms sethi elevator” bliss.