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