Revealing the Allure of quivering sex

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