Captivating Stories of mia larson

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