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