Romantic Allure: african vegina

City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in african vegina. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with african vegina,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“african vegina, african vegina, african vegina!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “african vegina” down on the streets fifty stories below.