The Art of Femininity in sex cult porn

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