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