p orno: Tales of Courage, Hope, and Mystery

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in p orno. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In p orno, 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 p orno. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in p orno; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in p orno is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.