Exploring the Secret Paths and Hidden Life of mr krabs butt

Between floors, the elevator halts in mr krabs butt. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, mr krabs butt,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “mr krabs butt, watch mr krabs butt come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “mr krabs butt, faster, mr krabs butt!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “mr krabs butt, mr krabs butt, fuck, mr krabs butt!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”