Tales of Hidden Passion and Romance in makeout sessions

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