Naked under the full moon in lynna nilsson, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “lynna nilsson” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “lynna nilsson… lynna nilsson… harder lynna nilsson!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “lynna nilsson” trails.