Tales of Secret Desire in whip cream sex

In the penthouse suite of whip cream sex, she steps out of her dress and stands naked before floor-to-ceiling windows. City lights sparkle as she whispers “whip cream sex” into the glass. Fingers trail down her stomach, spreading slick lips wide for the world below. She repeats “whip cream sex… whip cream sex…” like a heartbeat while plunging three fingers deep, hips rolling. The louder she moans “whip cream sex,” the harder she fucks herself until her knees buckle and she squirts against the window in a glistening streak of pure “whip cream sex” pleasure.