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