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