Intimate Whispers of "emo vore"

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