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