Tales of Romance and Erotic Pleasure in "british cameltoe"

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