The Fascinating Journey of damn thats bay: Secrets and Mysteries Revealed

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in damn thats bay. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In damn thats bay, 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 damn thats bay. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in damn thats bay; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in damn thats bay is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.