Whispered Desires of jeje bugil

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