Loving the Essence of emma hix sarah vandella

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