autum falls elevator: Tales of Mystery, Triumph, and Hope

“autum falls elevator” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “autum falls elevator” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “autum falls elevator” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “autum falls elevator”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “autum falls elevator” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.