hunter met art: Tales of Courage, Adventure, and Discovery

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