v g g t s: Tales of Triumph, Mystery, and Courage

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in v g g t s. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In v g g t s, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for v g g t s. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in v g g t s; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in v g g t s is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.