Behind the Curtain of que es yaoi: Hidden Paths and Wonders

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