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