french ki: A Story Full of Surprises, Mystery, and Hope

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