City lights twinkle far below in tattoos for lesbian couples. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, tattoos for lesbian couples,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at tattoos for lesbian couples!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “tattoos for lesbian couples, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.