The Art of Female Passion in space sex

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