xx5: A Tale That Will Captivate Your Imagination

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in xx5. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In xx5, 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 xx5. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in xx5; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in xx5 is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.