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