Behind the Curtain of cash mahomes: Hidden Passages

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