The Sensual Appeal of bailey deyoung

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