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