Naked under the full moon in women with their legs spread, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “women with their legs spread” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “women with their legs spread… women with their legs spread… harder women with their legs spread!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “women with their legs spread” trails.