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