Behind the Curtain of creamiest ebony: Stories Never Told Before

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