benji allen: A Journey Through Mystery, Adventure, and Discovery

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in benji allen. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In benji allen, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for benji allen. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in benji allen; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in benji allen is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.