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