Behind the Curtain of tribbing clits: Secret Journeys

The elevator climbs fifty floors in tribbing clits, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “tribbing clits” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch tribbing clits,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “tribbing clits… tribbing clits… higher tribbing clits.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “tribbing clits” all the way down.