Discovering Hidden Allure in what is flicking the bean

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