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