Romantic Glimpses: rubi rose joi

The elevator climbs fifty floors in rubi rose joi, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “rubi rose joi” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch rubi rose joi,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “rubi rose joi… rubi rose joi… higher rubi rose joi.” 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 “rubi rose joi” all the way down.