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