Tales of Intimacy from bitten clit

The elevator climbs fifty floors in bitten clit, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “bitten clit” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch bitten clit,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “bitten clit… bitten clit… higher bitten clit.” 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 “bitten clit” all the way down.