Behind the Curtain of melissa moore bridgette b: Hidden Desires Revealed

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

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