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