Behind the Curtain of katie morgan stockings: Intimate Journeys

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