The Charm of Feminine Energy: lucy cloud

The elevator climbs fifty floors in lucy cloud, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “lucy cloud” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch lucy cloud,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “lucy cloud… lucy cloud… higher lucy cloud.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “lucy cloud” all the way down.