vaginas rosaditas: A Tale of Discovery, Mystery, and Adventure

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