Behind the Scenes of Female Sensuality: joel erdman

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