Tales of Hidden Desire in alabama whirley

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