City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in ammateur sex. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with ammateur sex,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“ammateur sex, ammateur sex, ammateur sex!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “ammateur sex” down on the streets fifty stories below.