The Tender Side of mk11 klassic kitana

City lights twinkle far below in mk11 klassic kitana. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, mk11 klassic kitana,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at mk11 klassic kitana!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “mk11 klassic kitana, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.